


Only Kin Could Slice So Deep

by Antarctica_or_bust



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Battle Of Five Armies, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Bilbo, Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, Beorn is a Yenta, Blood, Brief allusion to non-con when you think about it, Character Death, Coup d'état, Developing Relationship, Dwarven Politics, Dís POV, Fíli POV, Fíli as King, Guilt, Healer Bilbo, Heavy Angst, Implied Torture, Intercrural Sex, Internalized Homophobia, Intrigue, M/M, Mind Control, Missing Scene, Oral Sex, POV Multiple, Paranoia, Pining, Reunion Sex, Secretly Awesome Character, Slow Build, Thorin POV, Thorin is crazy, Thranduil is Not a Dick, Violence, We-might-totally-die-tomorrow sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-08-21
Packaged: 2017-12-08 04:52:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 58,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antarctica_or_bust/pseuds/Antarctica_or_bust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin comes to believe that his nephew betrayed the company and leaves him in the goblin caves to die.<br/>Bilbo will not stand for this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Paranoia

When the Goblin King sneers down at him and greets him with his true name, Thorin Oakenshield knows that he has been betrayed.

The dwarf has known that someone was working against him ever since the beginning of his quest, suspicion sparked by the ill-luck that plagued him from the start. Why else but sabotage would so many dwarves who were pledged to aid him suddenly change their minds and give no explanation? Why else would so many of his brave warriors turn coward and refuse to heed his call?

Someone had raised doubts among his people where there had been faith before, doubts about his fitness to be their lord and king. Someone made his clan, the Sigin-tarâg, beg Thorin to stay in Ered Luin when they should have been fighting for the chance to journey at his side and reclaim Erebor. So with every shamefaced denial of aid or provisions, the dwarf lord became more certain that someone was working against him in the shadows to seed fear and uncertainty into the hearts of those he ruled.

Yet Thorin had no idea whom this enemy could be for all his usual opponents were silent and his council had unanimously supported the idea of his quest. None of the twelve who answered his summons had been warned off directly and as far as the dwarf could tell his people were happy with how he chose to rule. Or at least they had been, before this.

Even Balin, who kept his finger on the pulse of Thorin's kingdom and was usually well-informed about political intrigue, had neither name nor face to give him. All the old dwarf could say was that there were rumors circling among his people. Rumors saying that Thorin's mind had been addled by the wizard, that his journey to reclaim Erebor was a suicide mission from which none would return and that the dragon Smaug would rain a fiery death upon any who dared face him.

No one knew from whence these whispers came, only that they must have been started by someone with influence and respect. A dwarf close enough to the royal family to know that Thorin worked with Gandalf and to have heard the details of his plan.

It was ill news to hear that there was a two-faced snake among his kin and the dwarf king hated to leave this enemy free to strike his back. However, Thorin could not afford to delay his quest any longer, not when all the omens said it must be now. So he gathered what supplies he could and sent his twelve companions to meet Gandalf and their burglar in the far off land known as the Shire.

Then the dwarf left the Sigin-tarâg in his sister's capable hands and warned her to be careful as he rode to take council with his kin.

Thorin's fellow dwarf lords had agreed to meet with him and he hoped that here at last he would receive assistance in his quest. However, he could feel his invisible enemy in the shadows of the council and the whispers that followed where he walked. The dwarf saw his foe in the way that the other dwarves would not meet his eyes and in their staunch refusal to give him the aid that he was due. Even his cousin Dáin turned coward in the end and when pressed for reasons all the dwarf gave was those same rumors as excuse.

Perhaps Thorin should have taken this as a warning that his journey was doomed to failure and he should secure his own lands before seeking Erebor. Yet he could not do this, not with the call of the Lonely Mountain singing in his veins and even if that was what his enemy desired, the dwarf would undertake his quest with the few companions that he had.

There would be time enough to deal with the traitor after he took back his homeland, and if this treachery claimed his life along the way, Thorin was certain that Dís would avenge his death.

Such dark thoughts turned the dwarf's mood foul and by the time he arrived at the Green Dragon Inn, he just wanted the day to be over. Thus when Thorin received Gandalf's message asking him to meet the others for dinner at one Bilbo Baggins' house, all he could do was grind his teeth and sigh. The wizard's faulty directions did not improve his disposition, for that patch of flowers was really more blue than turquoise and no real dwarf would call that hill a mountain, and thus Thorin was frustrated indeed by the time he pounded on the hobbit's door.

While his anger may have made him overly harsh with Mr. Baggins, the halfling was clearly unsuitable for facing down a dragon and Thorin had enough working against him already without adding a millstone around his neck. The wizard's insistence that this soft creature must be his burglar actually made the dwarf wonder briefly if Gandalf could be his secret enemy, but he shook that suspicion firmly from his mind.

If the wizard had wanted Thorin's quest to fail, he need only have kept his father's key and those rumors could not have been started by a stranger to his clan. Indeed Gandalf had come up with their plan himself and so the dwarf had to trust in the wizard's motives and his judgment if he were to have any hope at all. However, he could not deny being relieved when Mr. Baggins chose to stay behind.

Although that relief had been short-lived, Thorin thought that with the start of his quest he could at least put his enemy behind him and focus on this chance to make his people's future bright.

But this was not to be and on the company's last night in the Shire, Thorin received word from Dís that would haunt his mind throughout the days to come. His sister's letter warned him that the rumors had spread despite her efforts and the dwarf would need a triumphant return to keep his people's faith and keep his crown. Ill news indeed for a fool's journey such as his own.

She had also received a message from Rivendell replying to Thorin's request for information and while the dwarf knew that he needed Lord Elrond's expertise, it had been difficult for him to overcome his mistrust long enough to ask. Yet his effort had been wasted for all the elf wrote in his letter was that Thorin's quest was ill-advised. Such a condescending statement of the obvious was salt poured in a wound and it only made the dwarf more determined to succeed without any outside help at all.

So he sent a missive to Dís that told her of the route they planned to take and promised to keep his sister informed of any changes if he could. Then the company of Thorin Oakenshield set out upon the long and dangerous journey that the dwarf hoped would bring the Sigin-tarâg their home.

\---

However, while the rest of the company became caught up in the joys of traveling and the hopeful spirit of their quest, Thorin's worries would not leave his mind. He brooded on them as they rode and his dreams were filled with dragon fire and a malevolent shadow laughing from the dark. The thought that his quest might fail due to some traitor's machinations was unthinkable and the idea that the dwarf might succeed only to lose his people to another ate at his tattered pride.

Thus Thorin was determined to make everything go right so that he could reclaim his homeland gloriously and prove all the rumors false. His triumph must be so overwhelming that the Sigin-tarâg would follow him beyond any shred of doubt and all his enemies would rue the day they chose the other side.

This overwhelming pressure made him hard and snappish where he might have been encouraging and even the dwarf's nephews felt the sharp side of his tongue. However, despite his impatience with each of their mistakes, it did not occur to Thorin that his companions might be disloyal, at least not until the fiasco with the trolls.

Once Gandalf had rescued them and the immediate threat to their lives was over, Thorin looked back on the night and shook his head in disgust. _What in Mahal's name was everyone thinking? This could hardly have gone worse if I had planned it myself_.

Even as he thought these words, the dwarf realized what truth they held and the seed of doubt was planted there in fertile ground. As long as one didn't mind the danger, the easiest way to undermine a quest such as his would be from within, and no one would ever think that the sabotage was more than awful luck.

Yet Thorin had known all of his companions for years, most of them were some manner of kin, and they had been the only ones willing to answer when he called. But while the dwarf tried to put the idea from his mind, it would not die completely and his thoughts were torn in two. How could he repay such brave loyalty with this dark suspicion? But on the other hand, how could Thorin ignore the clear signs of treachery?

His doubts grew when his company suddenly found themselves hunted by an orc pack, a pack that should not have known that they were there.

“Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin?” Gandalf had asked furiously and Thorin did not lie when he swore there was no one. That was the problem for no one else should have known the route that they would take and only one close to the dwarf could have betrayed his plans so well. So suddenly the fact that his company was made of friends and relatives was no longer reassuring since the traitor must be someone Thorin trusted and only kin could slice so deep.

When Gandalf went against his wishes and led the company to Rivendell, the dwarf's doubts were temporarily pushed aside by anger at the wizard and his annoyance with the elves. While Thorin could not fault Elrond's hospitality and appreciated the chance to send another messenger bird to his sister, he was certain that the elves would try to stop him here and the dwarf resented the attempt.

What right did they have to treat him as a child to be coddled and removed from dangerous things? He had known the risks when he chose to take them, and no meddling elf was going to keep him from his homeland. Especially not when the doubts he saw in the elf lord's eyes reminded Thorin of his own.

It was easier to take refuge in anger at the elves and at his enemy than to face that kernel of despair. It was easier to assume that his quest was being sabotaged by one within his company than to acknowledge that his luck had turned so foul.

Thus as the dwarves and hobbit climbed high into the Misty Mountains, Thorin found himself searching his companions' faces for any hint that they were not what they seemed. He found himself second-guessing every action and looking for falsehood in even Balin's eyes, while his uncertainty fed on nightmares in the dark.

However, the only sabotage that the dwarf discovered was the hobbit's complete incompetence and even he was not so suspicious as to think that Bilbo was some kind of evil mastermind. Useless, yes, but to doubt their burglar was to doubt the wizard and Thorin could not do that without despair.

Given this complete lack of evidence, the dwarf tried to shove the paranoia from his mind and reminded himself fiercely that the traitor was probably back in Ered Luin, hiding in the shadows for fear of his sister's retribution. This attempt was largely successful so after several days of mostly normal behavior, Balin stopped sending Thorin worried sidelong glances and his nephews could sit beside him again without triggering his sudden wrath.

While Kíli still frowned at his uncle in disapproval when Thorin used Bilbo as a convenient target for his remaining frustrations, the dwarf started to think that maybe he could put his doubts behind him and trust in the loyalty of his friends once more.

Yet even as he thought this, the stone disappeared beneath their feet and the fourteen companions tumbled into the clutches of a goblin horde.

Beaten, disarmed and dragged in front of the creature's leader, the dwarf does not look like any king and so when the Great Goblin says that he has been expecting him, Thorin knows that all his fears were correct. There is no way that this Goblin King should have known that they would be traveling this way, not unless one of his companions has betrayed him.

No one but the fifteen of them knew which route the company was taking and Thorin had chosen the less common paths to throw off their pursuit. No one else but Dís and the dwarf trusts his sister more than anyone, including even himself. He tries desperately to think of an explanation other than treachery, but there is none and as his anger gradually overrides the sting of betrayal, the dwarf burns with the need to take his vengeance.

The traitor must be one of the twelve dwarves that he brought with him, one with something to gain from Thorin's failure or his death. Someone trusted by everyone and evil or foolish enough to side with goblins and orcs to see his purpose through.

As he and his companions are stripped of their weapons, the dwarf's mind races, trying to figure out which of them has double-crossed him. There are only five dwarves who have the power and the real motive to be the one whom Thorin seeks and the thought that any of them could have done such a thing threatens the foundations of his world. Yet the dwarf knows that they have and so he hardens his heart against this weakness for his only goal now is to make them pay for what they've done.

However, he is not sure how he can determine which of them is the traitor while stuck in this captivity, and Thorin tunes out the Goblin King's rambling speech as he tries to come up with a plan. _If he is smart, my betrayer will not draw attention to himself so that he can continue his sabotage if we escape but he also would not wish to risk his life. So how? How do I flush him out? And how do I get us free?_

Thorin's attention is recaptured when the grotesque goblin reaches out and hits him across the cheek, obviously annoyed by his disregard.

“I see you do not take me seriously, little dwarf. Well if you will not talk, I'll make you squawk instead. I shall torture each member of your company one by one until you change your mind and tell me the answers that I seek.”

_As if you do not already know. As if my betrayer has not already told you. Why would you bother with this charade except, but oh...of course._

Now that Thorin recognizes the answer it seems obvious and he does not understand how he could have missed it before. _What better way than this to separate the traitor from my company without arousing our suspicion? The Goblin King will try and use this false threat to break our spirits while my betrayer moves on with the next stage of his plan. I wonder if he truly means to kill me, to kill us all, or if there is some deeper scheme at work?_

The Great Goblin snarls, “Start with the youngest,” and when the creatures grab Kíli instead of the younger looking Ori, Thorin does not fight them. He is frozen with horror at the knowledge that his nephew has betrayed him, for the dwarf had not actually believed that the traitor could be either of his sister-sons. Yet all the evidence fits and his shock is consumed in an icy rage at the truth before his eyes.

So Thorin watches implacably as the goblins start to drag the dwarf away, ignoring the twinge within his heart at the terror on Kíli's face. The traitor is a talented actor to have hidden his malevolence for so long beneath a mask of eager foolishness and his skills don't fail him now when he fakes a desperate struggle against their captors.

Although it is a terrible thing, Thorin is actually pleased to see the fear and worry on Fíli's face as he fights to reach his brother, for it shows that his nephew knew nothing of this treason and Erebor will still need its heir when the day is done.

After Kíli has disappeared into the tunnels, struggling all the while, the Goblin King sneers down at his prisoners once again. “I would love to let you watch his torment but I am afraid that I just can't risk you interfering with my work. So you will have to accept my hospitality instead and I am sure that the screams of your friend will be more than enough for you to see the folly of your silence.”

These words remove the last trace of doubt from Thorin's mind since the goblin would surely want the dwarves to watch if he was truly going to torture Kíli? So the dwarf disowns the traitor from his thoughts as their captors haul the rest of the company away and before long he finds himself in a small, dank cell carved into the rock. The goblins have separated Thorin from the others, the only connection between the prisoners a single flimsy bridge that is guarded fiercely and he does not know how they will manage to escape.

When the bars of their cells have been set firmly in place, the Great Goblin appears again to gloat over his victory.

“You are more ruthless than I thought, dwarf, to give one of your own into my hands without a fight, but I promise you that he will squeal before too long. However, if you tell me what I wish to know about your quest, I will grant both of you the mercy of a quick death before Azog comes to take you all. The Defiler will not be so kind, I swear to that.”

Though the thought of his old enemy gives the dwarf pause, Thorin looks up at the goblin with disdain and shakes his head.

“How stupid do you think I am? There is no need to continue this charade now that we are captured and you have already been told everything you need to know. I will take my chances with the pale orc, should he actually still live, and we shall see who begs for mercy in the end. Torture my companion if you must, but I will not bend to your demands.”

“You are a strange one, Thorin Oakenshield, and I would question your sources since Azog is both very much alive and not one to share his information. However, if you wish to give me your comrade then I accept with pleasure and perhaps the sound of his suffering will soon change your mind.”

With these words the creature leaves the dwarf to his dark and brooding thoughts and the screams begin soon after.

\---

As the first shriek of agony echoes through the caverns, Thorin jerks upright and something in him still wishes to rush to the traitor's aid. Though he tries to remember that Kíli has proved himself disloyal, the dwarf has been conditioned to relieve his nephew's pain and he has to clench his fists to keep from banging on the walls.

It is not an easy thing to listen to, even knowing that it is probably an act and if not, then the traitor deserves his fate for consorting with such evil. But the Goblin King is a master of his craft and he lets each scream linger and makes every silence a nerve-wracking anticipation of the next agonized cry.

Even Thorin's enemies deserve a quicker death than this and so the dwarf is relieved when the monster pauses in his work to come taunt his prisoners again. In the sudden quiet, he can hear the others yelling and the knowledge that they still live gives Thorin the strength to resist the goblin's mocking even while he worries about Fíli's mental state.

When the Great Goblin still receives no answers to his questions the monster returns to his torture, and the dwarf loses track of how many hours have passed as he listens to the traitor scream. The sound cannot be blocked out no matter how he tries and Thorin wonders idly if it will eventually drive him mad, though he refuses to beg for it to cease. However, the next time that their captor returns, the creature has realized that Thorin truly will not surrender to change his nephew's fate and so the goblin turns to other threats.

“I am afraid I just don't know how much longer this one will last me; he is really such a fragile thing compared to the other dwarves I've taken. So which of your company should I torture next to ease my disappointment? The blonde perhaps, he is your heir is he not, and I am sure he would scream beautifully beneath my blades.”

Thorin cannot keep from snarling at these words, even as his thoughts are filled with complete repulsion. _Your **brother** Kíli, how could you give him that? Unless that is the plan? Let this creature kill me and Fíli and then stage a daring rescue so that you can claim the throne for yourself. Claim Erebor in our memory and none would realize what you'd done._

The Goblin King laughs heartily to have finally gotten under his captive's skin, but before he can make good on his threat there is a crack like thunder and a wave of force slams through the cavern. It blows the bars off of Thorin's cell and knocks the Great Goblin from his perch into the dark below.

When the dwarf regains his senses, Gandalf is standing over him with Orcrist in his hands and Thorin takes his blade from the wizard with a feral grin. He races across the bridge to rejoin the rest of his company, cutting down those few goblins that dare to remain standing in his way. Gandalf helps the dwarf smash open the other cell and release his fellows and he is glad to see them all safe and sound.

Physically safe at least, for Fíli is not the only one who looks haunted by Kíli's anguished cries. The young dwarf tries to catch his uncle's eye, but Thorin knows that he will ask about his brother so he just nods reassuringly and lets his nephew draw the wrong conclusions. After they are free of these fell mountains and out of Kíli's reach, then he will tell his heir the truth.

Once they have rearmed themselves, the dwarves begin their charge to freedom, Gandalf running in the lead through the maze of paths and platforms. Thorin loses himself in the crunch of bone and steel, his sword slicing down his enemies in a glorious dance of carnage. However, for all their skill, his company is sorely outnumbered and eventually they find themselves surrounded on all sides by enemies as the Goblin King rises up to block their way.

Yet before Thorin can charge forward to meet the creature, Gandalf strikes a killing blow and they are falling, sliding quickly into the abyss. No one has time to scream before they land heavily, battered and bruised but somehow still alive. Thorin drags himself upright and pales when he sees the swarm of goblins racing down the rocks toward where they stand.

“Run!” He yells, pulling Fíli from the wreckage and shoving him in the direction of the closest tunnel. They cannot hope to fight such numbers and so they flee, running for their lives and daylight, which is the only thing that can save them now. Thorin hates to turn tail even though he knows they must and in his heart his wishes that he could fight the monsters that slaver on their heels. If he must die then he wants to die with honor instead of cowardice.

But just as the dwarf is thinking that it may come to that, he spies light up ahead and the company spills out upon the mountainside. Only once they have put a safe distance between themselves and the mouth of the tunnel does Thorin stop, the others gathering around him as they catch their breaths.

However, the respite is short-lived for as soon as the wizard has a chance to look around and count their numbers, Gandalf cries out, “Where are Bilbo and Kíli? Where are our hobbit and our friend?”

Thorin winces when everyone turns to him and he can see the trust within his nephew's eyes. He knows that Fíli expects Kíli to be waiting for them somewhere, perhaps injured but still part of their company and still one of their kin.

The dwarf knows what they all expect and although he will not shy from telling them the truth, Thorin almost wishes that he could delay the pain that his news will cause. His companions will not have seen the same signs of his nephew's treachery and so the dwarf doubts that they will understand. Nonetheless the others must be told and Fíli will learn to forget his brother in time for a traitor's name cannot be spoken in Khuzdul.

“I do not know what has become of the burglar,” Thorin says grimly though at the moment he also does not care. “He was not with us in our captivity and if he fell within the tunnels then we must assume that the hobbit is either dead or fled back to his home. For his sake I hope that it is the latter, that he saw his chance to run and he took it. Baggins has thought of nothing but his soft bed and his warm hearth since first he stepped out of his door and so he will not be much of a loss. Either way his life is no longer our concern for we will not be seeing him again.”

At this the wizard glares in disapproval, but Thorin ignores it. The dwarf told Gandalf that he would not be responsible for the halfling's fate and he has much greater losses on his mind.

“However, I do know of Kíli's fate and he too is no longer our concern. Though it pains me to say it, I left him within the mountain and I must name him a traitor to my line.” These words are met with shocked gasps from the rest of the company while Thorin silences Fíli's cry of denial with a glare.

“I know that this is a harsh surprise, but I have seen the evidence with my own eyes and it is undeniable. Kíli has been sabotaging this quest under our very noses, and our capture by the goblins is only his most recent attempt to claim my place. I swear that I do not make this accusation lightly but the Great Goblin knew information that only Kíli could have told him whether through torture or other means and so I name him traitor. I name him traitor to his oaths, I name him traitor to our kin and should we meet again, he will face my wrath. However, Erebor takes precedence over even this betrayal so we will leave him to whatever fate Mahal proscribes.”

The dwarf can see that the others are not entirely convinced but they have no grounds on which to challenge him and so even Gandalf eventually bends his head and defers to Thorin's judgment. Only Fíli stands stubbornly in his brother's defense, but his heir has no evidence except his own belief and the dwarf cannot let emotion change his course.

“Your loyalty does you credit, nephew, but you are my heir and you must learn to rule with your mind instead of your heart. The evidence against your brother is overwhelming, and even if the greater charge of treason were somehow false, he still broke his oath of silence beneath the goblins' hands. He could never live with that dishonor and a rescue attempt would do nothing but cost us all our lives. Thus you must accept that his fate is sealed and there is nothing to be done.”

“Even if I cannot save him, it is still my right to try. And my brother should be remembered for his sacrifice, not stricken from our history because of your suspicions. Kíli should be remembered,” Fíli replies fiercely, glaring up at his uncle.

Thorin's fist slams against his nephew's jaw, knocking him to the ground and the dwarf looms over his heir as he growls.

“You will not speak that traitor's name. I tried to go easy on you but the truth is that your brother wants you dead. He wants both of us dead and if not for Gandalf then he would have succeeded in his plan. You will recognize this fact and submit to my judgment or you are not worthy to be my heir. I will kill you myself before I let you challenge me.”

Against this wild fury Fíli can do nothing but submit, though something seems to break within his eyes when he nods his grudging acceptance. As soon as he does, Thorin pulls his nephew upright and starts his company moving again because they still have far too much ground to cover before the day is done.

He is pleased when his heir does not look back at the mountain and assumes that his harsh words have shown his heir the folly of his ways. Fíli will forget this pain in time and the lesson that no one can be trusted will make him a better ruler in the end.

Whatever uncertainty the other tried to raise in Thorin's mind has failed, broken against the wall of his belief. There can be no more doubt now that the dwarf has made his decree because he will not second-guess himself once the deed is done. So his voice is filled with conviction when he gives his heir one last command. “Forget about your brother. He was a dagger at our backs and the worst will be over now that he is gone.”

 


	2. Courage and Despair

Bilbo cannot believe what he is hearing.  
  
He had been so happy to see the dwarves again after his ordeal within the caves and had followed them out of the mountain as quickly as he could. However, before the hobbit could remove his stolen ring to reveal himself, Thorin began speaking and his words quickly turned Bilbo's joy into revulsion.  
  
The hobbit does not mind his own dismissal for he knows well how little the dwarf lord thinks of him, but the abandonment of Kíli shocks him to the core. What kind of person could leave anyone to suffer beneath the goblins' hands, let alone a relative, and the thought of that happy laughing face twisted in agony makes Bilbo feel ill.  
  
No matter what Thorin believes he knows, his nephew has been the hobbit's best friend among the company and Bilbo is certain that the dwarf could not have done this thing. There is no deception in Kíli's soul and even if there were, the lad has wanted _nothing_ more than his uncle's approval during their entire journey and probably throughout his life.  
  
 _How can Thorin not realize this? How can he abandon his own kin so easily without any proof other than his own paranoia and the ill words of an enemy? Why isn't Gandalf stopping him?_  
  
So Bilbo watches in disgust and disappointment as the dwarf cajoles and threatens Fíli into leaving his brother behind before herding the rest of the company into motion. There is doubt on some of their faces but no one speaks up and the idea of joining them makes the hobbit's stomach turn.  
  
 _I don't care what suspicions Thorin has, this is wrong, and if no one else has the courage to stop it then I will._  
  
The hobbit walks away from his former company to stand once more before the tunnel entrance, preparing himself for what he is about to do. Bilbo does not know how he will find Kíli within the goblin's warren, all he knows is that he has to try. He will rescue his friend or die in the attempt because he would never be able to live with himself if he walked away.  
  
So Bilbo squares his shoulders and reenters the passage, uncertain if he will ever see the sun or sky again.  
  
\---  
  
Although the hobbit lacks a torch, the ring on his finger adds a strange glow to the world as he creeps further into the mountain's depths. This sickly grey light is enough for him to see the dwarves' footprints in the dirt and Bilbo thanks the Valar for his luck because he knows that without its magic, his search would have been doomed to failure from the start.  
  
He hopes that retracing the dwarves' path will lead him back to Kíli and the hobbit has followed it for a long while when he hears a noise from up ahead. There is just enough time for Bilbo to throw himself to the side of the tunnel before a horde of goblins rushes past him and even with his ring, the hobbit does not dare to breathe until the last one is long gone. Then he stands up, brushes himself off and continues deeper into the mountain, listening carefully for anymore footsteps in the dark over the wild pounding of his heart.  
  
However, while Bilbo encounters no more enemies, the hobbit faces another conundrum when the path splits up ahead. To his dismay, he discovers that the dwarves' footprints have been obliterated by the goblins that passed him by and the creatures came from both directions in nearly equal numbers.  
  
There are no obvious defining features to separate the tunnels and so for lack of a better plan, the hobbit eventually decides to take the route that angles upward, remembering the great height from which he fell. By this point, the absence of clear landmarks has caused Bilbo to lose all sense of distance or direction and he knows that he might be lost forever if he fails to retrace his steps. Yet the hobbit can do nothing but press onward, ignoring the smaller side tunnels and using his grumbling stomach as a guide to the passage of time.  
  
After what must be several more hours of walking, Bilbo's tunnel finally meets with the enormous cavern in which the goblins built their makeshift town. The place is strangely deserted now but the hobbit can see signs of the dwarves' presence in the corpses and wreckage strewn across the ground and he is relieved to see them even as he has to look away and gag.  
  
So the hobbit is picking his way carefully through the debris when a shrill scream echoes through the caves and his chest clenches painfully when he recognizes Kíli's tortured voice. The cry halts Bilbo in his tracks for it seems to stretch on endlessly in a wail of agony from which there is no escape.  
  
Yet it is almost worse when the scream cuts off abruptly and throwing caution to the wind, the hobbit sprints forward toward the source. Kíli did not sound as though he had much strength remaining and Bilbo cannot bear the thought that he might arrive seconds too late. He runs recklessly through the cavern, leaping gaps and obstacles without hesitation and correcting his course each time the dwarf cries out again.  
  
Finally Bilbo skids to a halt outside a smaller cave that adjoins the main one, and his heart almost stops when he peers cautiously inside. Kíli is there, chained to a rack with his arms stretched far above his head and if he were not breathing, the hobbit would think him dead.  
  
The dwarf's weapons and gear are piled on one side of the chamber and he has been stripped almost bare, every inch of exposed skin covered in blood and bruises. Along with the smaller cuts that litter his body, there are deep gashes across his ribs, whip-marks crisscrossing his torso and a enormous, angry burn running down his side.  
  
Bilbo is about to rush inside and help him when there is a grunt from the shadows and a large goblin limps into view, moving toward Kíli as he spins a wicked flaying knife between his hands.  
  
“Stubborn dwarf, stupid stubborn creature. Your friends have left you and still you resist, but Zarg will break you soon enough.” The creature mutters through his misshapen mouth. “You'll scream and scream and then you'll finally squeal. Spill your secrets in my ears so that I'll let you die.”  
  
 _I knew it! I knew Thorin had to be mistaken and Kíli is no betrayer._ The hobbit is incredibly relieved to know that his friend is as blameless as he thought, but he still needs to free the dwarf before he can worry about clearing his name. So Bilbo creeps slowly into the cave while he tries to gather his courage to attack.  
  
Yet when Zarg raises his knife to carve another slice into Kíli's skin, the hobbit's vision flashes red and he charges forward instantly to bring the goblin down. There is no remorse within him as he tackles the creature and slams his blade into the other's chest on the way down to the floor. Zarg's knife goes flying and Bilbo stabs him again and again, blood splashing onto his face and hands. One last slice across the goblin's neck ends his miserable life for good, and the hobbit shakes the gore off his sword before turning to help his dwarf.  
  
The commotion has brought Kíli out of his stupor and he stirs weakly, eyes cracking open and widening at the bloodbath that meets his gaze.  
  
“Is someone th-there?” The dwarf asks cautiously, looking around as best he can. His voice is dry and harsh from screaming and it breaks upon the words, making him cough roughly. Each cough jerks his body against the chains that bind him and Kíli winces, teeth clenching tight against the pain.  
  
Bilbo grabs the keys off Zarg's belt and rushes to the other's side but the dwarf pulls back sharply at his touch, face blanching once again. _Why...? Oh damn it all, the ring._ The hobbit quickly pulls the gold band off to reassure his friend and the world returns to its proper color and tone as its magic dissipates.  
  
“It's all right, Kíli, everything's all right. It's Bilbo and I'm going to get you out of here.” He whispers soothingly as he tries to find the right key amidst the rest.  
  
At his words, the dwarf relaxes slightly, tilting his head down to look the hobbit in the eye. “Bi-Bilbo? How? Am I hallucinating again?”  
  
“No. No, I promise I am real and I'm here to rescue you. But I need to free you before anyone else comes back.” The hobbit replies, patting Kíli gently on his leg to prove the truth of his statement before he climbs onto a crate to unlock the dwarf's shackles. “Can you walk?”  
  
Kíli nods shakily as he cautiously lowers his arms, face bleaching white when the blood rushes back beneath his skin. “I'll have to, won't I?” He says, voice strangled by the pain while Bilbo moves to gather up his gear. “But they were interested in suffering not damage so my legs are mostly all right. I'd move faster with a sling though.”  
  
When the hobbit turns back, he sees what the dwarf means by this for Kíli's right arm is hanging limply at his side as he sways upon his feet. So following the other's directions, Bilbo fashions a rough sling from his shirt and binds the injured limb tightly against the dwarf's chest to stop it from jarring while they walk.  
  
Then he helps Kíli into what little clothing he can manage before throwing the rest of their gear over his own shoulders in an awkward bundle. By the time they've finished, the dwarf is pale and trembling again but he nods in determination when Bilbo asks him if he is ready to leave.  
  
“I'll manage. Better some pain than dying here. But what about Fíli, Thorin and the rest? Are they all right?”  
  
The honest worry in Kíli's eyes makes the hobbit's heart ache for his abandonment and so he offers the only truth that he can bear to speak. “They're fine. Everyone is fine and they escaped already, while I came back for you.”  
  
Thankfully the dwarf does not question Bilbo any further and simply nods in relief as he shoots the hobbit a sweet smile. “I'm glad to hear that, and thank you for this in case I don't have another chance to say it. Now let's get out of here before we get caught and waste your efforts.”  
  
Kíli is so injured that the hobbit is almost afraid to touch him but Bilbo eventually finds a position where he can support the dwarf without hurting him too badly and the pair starts slowly on their way. As they reach the opening to the main cavern, Bilbo stops the other, leaning the dwarf against the wall before ducking out to see if any goblins are around. Luckily the area is still deserted and he turns back for Kíli but when they cross the threshold, the hobbit has a thought and pauses to pull his new ring out of his pocket.  
  
“You should take this,” he says, handing the small gold circle to the dwarf. Although something in him screams possessively to see it leave his hands, Bilbo ignores the voice because it's just a loan and really, Kíli's life should be far more important than some bit of jewelry. “If we run into any more goblins put this on and get out of the way. It will let you pass unseen beneath their gaze.”  
  
“But what about you?” The dwarf protests, the gold of the ring glinting in his eyes. He shakes his head and tries to hand it back until Bilbo overrides him, folding his fingers around the band.  
  
“I am far smaller than you and uninjured so I can hide more easily or fight if it comes to this. I promise that I will hide if possible for I do not plan to throw my life away.”  
  
When Kíli finally agrees, the hobbit ducks back under his good shoulder and they make their halting way over the wooden bridges and rocky paths. It is slow going for the creatures are not the sturdiest of builders and every time they have to jump a gap, Bilbo is afraid that the dwarf will keel over from the pain. Yet somehow he perseveres and the pair continues on.  
  
Despite the hobbit's worries, they do not see another soul on their trip across the cavern and it is almost like walking through a grave. However, Bilbo can hear a great commotion and angry shouting in the distance and he is thankful that they need not go that way.  
  
Eventually they reach the tunnel through which the hobbit entered and he grabs a torch from the wall as they duck into the passage. Walking on stable ground is easier for Kíli and the pair starts to make better time, but the dwarf's energy is fading fast beneath the strain of his injuries and his ordeal. In fact Bilbo is concentrating so hard on supporting his friend that he does not hear the footsteps until the goblins are nearly upon them. When he finally realizes what he's hearing, the hobbit shoves the torch against the wall and tosses Kíli's gear aside, urgently ordering the dwarf to put on the ring. However, while he watches in relief as the other disappears from view, there is no time for Bilbo to hide himself.  
  
So without any hope of avoiding conflict, the hobbit chooses to begin it and the first goblin to round the corner dies quickly on his blade, eyes wide with surprise. However, his dying scream alerts the others and Bilbo soon finds himself struggling just to stay alive.  
  
He blocks and ducks frantically, relying more on instinct than any actual skill, and a lucky slash across the throat takes another goblin down. This minor victory gives the hobbit courage to be more aggressive in his strikes and his spirits lift further when Kíli starts to aid him, chucking rocks at their enemies from the dark.  
  
While the stones do little damage, they distract the creatures and Bilbo ducks under one's attack to bury his own sword deep in the monster's gut. Yet as he turns to meet his last foe, he trips over the bundle of gear that he threw away so hastily and tumbles to the ground.  
  
As he falls, Bilbo loses his grip on his weapon and his hands scrabble uselessly in the dirt when he looks up and sees his death in the goblin's grinning face. The hobbit throws an arm up and braces for the killing blow but it is the creature that falters as something slams into the back of his head with a sickening crack.  
  
When the goblin crumples, his arms flail out like sledgehammers and one of them must find Kíli for there is a choked cry and a thud from the air behind him. At the sound, Bilbo scrambles up and shoves the dying creature to the side, “Kíli, are you all right? Where are you damn it?”  
  
There is no answer so the hobbit searches blindly and finally his groping hands touch skin. He follows the line of the dwarf's arm down to his fist, which is clenched tight around the jagged rock that saved Bilbo's life. As quickly as he can, he eases this hand open and works the ring off Kíli's finger, slipping it back into his pocket while his friend reappears.  
  
The dwarf looks terrible where he kneels upon the stone, his face twisted and teeth clenched and he does not respond when the hobbit calls his name. This is when Bilbo really starts to worry and he reaches out to grab the other's good shoulder in distress.  
  
“Kíli, Kíli, Kíli. Come on I know it hurts but we have to go. Please, I can't help you here and I can't carry you myself. Kíli!”  
  
Finally his eyes crack open but they are hazy with pain and the dwarf does not seem to recognize the other's worried face. Despite this, the hobbit manages to cajole his friend onto his feet but Kíli cannot seem to focus and is swaying too much to walk even with aid.  
  
Bilbo feels desperation well up within him at the sight and with no other hope resorts to begging. “Kíli _please_. You have to concentrate. We need to get out of here before more goblins show up or then you'll never see your family again.”  
  
“Fa- family? Fíli!” This seems to cut through the dwarf's muddled thoughts and though he hates to do it, the hobbit continues in this vein.  
  
“That's right, Fíli. He's waiting for you but you have to walk there. Your family's waiting for you farther on and you don't want to disappoint them, do you? C'mon one foot in front of the other, just like that.”  
  
Kíli nods shakily and starts moving, mumbling to himself as he stumbles along. “Going to see Fíli, but have to walk. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot. Don't want to disappoint uncle, not again.”  
  
The hobbit winces, feeling incredibly guilty at this litany, but right now he would say anything if it meant saving the dwarf's life and at least they are on their way again. Under the weight of their gear and the other's stumbling progress, the journey seems to last forever and Bilbo knows that they are doomed if they encounter anymore goblins along the way.  
  
However, this time luck is with them and the pair reaches the tunnel entrance without further mishap, walking unmolested out into the open air. The hobbit thanks Yavanna's grace as he extinguishes his torch and takes more of Kíli's weight so that they can travel faster. He is torn between letting the dwarf rest and fleeing as far as possible, but when Bilbo sees a clear stream flowing out from the mountainside a fair distance from the tunnel, the decision is all but made.  
  
As the hobbit settles his friend gently against a tree, he wishes that he had more supplies but the water is pure and thankfully the night is not too cold. The dwarf passed out nearly the moment he sat down, so Bilbo takes this chance to clean the other's wounds, wiping the blood and dirt carefully from Kíli's skin.  
  
Yet the more he uncovers the more horrified he is, for there is almost no part of the dwarf's body that is uninjured and Bilbo knows that he lacks the skill required to properly treat such wounds. He does the best he can, cutting strips from his waistcoat to wash and bandage Kíli's deepest cuts but the hobbit can do nothing for the swollen purple mess of the dwarf's shoulder or the angry blisters that cover his burned side.  
  
Infuriated by his own helplessness, Bilbo swears that if they somehow manage to survive this, he will learn the skills he lacks. He will study everything there is to know about the healing arts so that he never has to be stuck in this position again, able to do nothing to help those whom he loves.  
  
Yet for now all the hobbit can do is curl up against Kíli and wrap his coat around them to share warmth, and it is not until dawn peeks over the horizon that he finally allows himself to sleep.  
  
\---  
  
When Bilbo wakes it is mid-morning and Kíli has tucked himself under the hobbit's chin, left arm wrapped around him tightly. He smiles fondly down at the dwarf for a moment but when he catches himself admiring how the soft light plays across the other's skin, Bilbo turns his head away firmly.  
  
 _Don't be stupid. He's a friend and he's going to stay that way because you are **not** going down that road again. Anyway, this is hardly the time for such foolishness._  
  
The hobbit carefully extricates himself from Kíli's embrace and digs a waterskin out of their gear before walking to the stream to freshen up. He splashes cold water on his face and fills the skin, returning to find the dwarf awake and this time, thank Yavanna, there is recognition in his eyes.  
  
“Hey, how are you feeling?” Bilbo asks, kneeling down by Kíli's side.  
  
“Like death,” The dwarf croaks in response, motioning for the water and the hobbit lifts the skin to his lips to help him drink. When he has finished, Kíli sits back again and a frown forms on his face as he looks around. “Where are the others? I thought you said they all escaped.”  
  
Bilbo is caught off guard by the question and he freezes, panic running through him, When he doesn't answer, the dwarf's eyes widen and he asks again more urgently, “Where are they? They are alive?!”  
  
“Yes, everyone is fine. Or at least they were all fine when I last saw them.” The hobbit is quick to reassure his friend, stopping Kíli as he struggles to rise. “I just have no idea where they are now.”  
  
“What are you talking about? Weren't they waiting for you? For us?” The dwarf asks in confusion and Bilbo finds that he has run out of excuses.  
  
“Not exactly, okay. Look, everyone escaped and they were fine but they aren't waiting. The others left without us and they aren't coming back; they don't even know we're still alive. I returned for you on my own because I couldn't leave you there to die.”  
  
Kíli looks at the hobbit with shocked disbelief as he slumps back against tree and shakes his head. “I don't understand. Fíli would **never** have left me.”  
  
“He didn't want to. Most of them didn't want to, only...” Here Bilbo pauses for there is no gentle way to say this. Maybe it would be better to wait but the dwarf deserves the truth and the hobbit has never been very good at lying anyway. “Thorin forced them to leave. He's convinced that you were sabotaging his quest and named you a traitor to his cause. I am so sorry but he refused to listen to reason.”  
  
With these words Bilbo discovers that it is possible to see a heart break and he watches helplessly while Kíli's face crumples in betrayal and despair. “What? But why...how could he think that?”  
  
The hobbit has no answer for him; there are no words to ease his pain. So he just wraps an arm around the dwarf and tries to tell him that it will be all right, Kíli will be all right once the pair finds shelter and someone to treat his wounds.  
  
However the dwarf just shakes his head in denial of these platitudes, “No it won't. You should have gone with the others because my life is over anyway. Dwarves do not take to traitors kindly and with my own uncle against me, I will never be welcome among our people again. Even my name will be erased from our history and any of the Sigin-tarâg who recognized me would be honor bound to strike me down.”  
  
“But Thorin is wrong! We both know that he's wrong and you just need to make him see the truth. I'm sure the others will support you once they know you live, so you cannot lose hope now.” Bilbo pleads, attempting to make the other see that he still has reason to go on. The hobbit knows that he would not be enough but surely Kíli still wants to see his family once again.  
  
“Uncle does not admit to mistakes and he would not take our word as proof. No, you should just leave me and save yourself because like this I'll only slow you down. Better for one of us to survive than for you to perish trying to rescue one already dead.”  
  
Kíli's voice is bitter but sincere and the hobbit knows that the dwarf truly is willing to sacrifice himself again. But all this knowledge does is make him angry.  
  
In fact these words infuriate Bilbo and he slaps the other across the face, hard enough to sting. “I did not drag your sorry ass out of that mountain for you to give up so easily. Your life has value even if you can't seem to see it and your mother and Fíli would be ashamed. Now either you are going to pick yourself up off the ground and come with me or we are **both** going to sit here until we die of starvation because I am not leaving you now. Have I made myself clear?”  
  
The dwarf tries to protest but Bilbo stands firm and eventually Kíli has to give in. No matter what he may think about his own chances, he cannot let a friend die needlessly and so he staggers upright as the hobbit repacks what few supplies they have.  
  
Both of them have stiffened from sleeping on the ground but their progress is better than Bilbo expected and they reach the base of the mountain before night falls. In the distance, he can see a tall stone spire stretching above the trees and he uses it as a landmark to keep them walking straight. If nothing else, the hobbit hopes that from the top he might be able to see any settlements nearby and Bilbo does not allow himself to think about what he will do if there are none.  
  
As the hours pass, Kíli's shoulder is only getting worse and he knows that the dwarf will not survive long if any of his wounds become infected. Although it may be a moot point if starvation or exposure kills them first since they have neither food nor shelter. So the hobbit pushes Kíli as hard as he dares, continuing to walk even as darkness falls until they cannot see to place their feet.  
  
When they finally stop to rest, Bilbo lights a fire with his tinderbox and hopes this will be enough to keep any animals away, for he cannot afford to watch a whole night without sleep. Then the pair dine on the small handful of edible plants that he managed to pick while they traveled. The greens are a poor meal indeed for ones already so rundown and the hobbit's stomach protests at the lack, but hopefully this small nourishment will help them continue on.  
  
After Bilbo's inappropriate thoughts that morning, he tries to keep his distance as they prepare to rest in order to give himself time to clear his mind. Spending the day pressed to Kíli's side has not helped his situation and the hobbit knows that he needs to get a handle on his desires before things go too far.  
  
However, when the dwarf rests his head on his shoulder and falls asleep instantly, Bilbo does not have the heart to push him away, though he himself dozes only fitfully, startled awake by every unfamiliar sound.  
  
The next day passes in a similar manner, only Kíli struggles to keep up their former pace and the hobbit's hope dims when evening comes and he sees how far the pair has left to travel. That night the dwarf doesn't sleep so much as fall unconscious and when Bilbo curls up next to him, the unnatural heat of his friend's skin dismays him even more.  
  
Once he finally drifts off, the hobbit's dreams are dark and fragmented and when he jerks awake, it takes him a moment to remember where he is. The fire has burned down to coals so several hours must have passed but Kíli still sleeps soundly at Bilbo's side, face pressed awkwardly against his chest. There is no blue glow either, his blade is reassuringly dim and so the hobbit is not sure what woke him from his doze.  
  
 _I suppose I might as well restart the fire since I'm up,_ he thinks and untangles himself carefully from the dwarf before kneeling by its dying embers. However, just as Bilbo begins to stir the coals to life, he hears a noise, the sharp crack of a twig snapping underfoot. Though his sword remains unlit, the hobbit snatches it up and draws it from its sheath, heart racing as he peers nervously into the night.  
  
 _There's something out there!_   His hand clenches tightly around the hilt of his blade when a black shape stirs beneath the trees. Bilbo moves quickly to stand between Kíli and the figure, ready to defend the dwarf as best he can, but he nearly drops his weapon instead when a deep voice calls out.  
  
“You must be Mr. Baggins then, the wizard said you would be small. A fierce rabbit to challenge one like me. But he did not mention your companion.”  
  
“Who's there? How do you know my name?” The hobbit asks, voice trembling only slightly as he tried to subtly nudge Kíli awake in case they have to run.  
  
In response to his questions, the figure moves closer and the dim firelight reveals an enormous man who, despite his rough appearance, crouches by the coals and smiles kindly. “I am Beorn and this is my territory. Gandalf asked me to watch for you when he left my house this morning; he feared you might be lost within the woods, or worse.”  
  
Bilbo relaxes at these words for the man's face is honest and he is pleasantly surprised that the wizard stopped to think of him at all. “Can you help us? My friend was injured by the goblins and I have neither the skill nor supplies to heal his wounds.”  
  
Beorn moves to Kíli's side and scrutinizes the dwarf intensely, eyes lingering on the hobbit's make-shift bandages. He is almost afraid to breathe as he waits for the other to speak because he knows that if this man cannot help them then Kíli is probably doomed. So it is with great relief that Bilbo watches Beorn sit back on his heels and nod slowly in assent.  
  
“I can aid him, yes, though he may not heal as fast as he would like. It is lucky that I found you when I did for your friend would not have survived the two-day journey to my home, not with injuries like these.”  
  
“Two days?” Bilbo asks faintly, wondering if this is just some cruel joke after all. With the dwarf already struggling, he knows Kíli cannot manage that, not unless the man works some magic here.  
  
“Two days walking, yes. But do not fear, I will have you there much faster. Can you wake him up?”  
  
The hobbit kneels by the dwarf's side and taps him gently until he finally stirs, eyes cracking open with a disgusted groan. However, when Bilbo turns back to Beorn to ask what he should do next, the man is no longer there. Instead a gigantic bear is standing in the clearing and the hobbit would have screamed if it were not looking at him with wise and kindly eyes.  
  
“Beorn?” He asks tentatively, although the idea seems impossible, but indeed the creature nods. When the bear lays down on the ground and gestures toward his back, Bilbo regains his senses and coaxes Kíli to his feet. The dwarf is still half dozing and out of it with fever but thankfully he is malleable enough beneath the hobbit's hands. So he maneuvers Kíli forward, settling him onto Beorn's large back and then climbing up behind.  
  
Once they are seated, Bilbo wraps his arms around the dwarf to keep him upright and takes a firm grip on the bear's fur before telling the skin-changer that they are ready. As soon as the words leave his mouth, Beorn charges forward like an arrow, making the hobbit gasp and grab on tighter in surprise.  
  
 _Yavanna's mercy! He is fast._ Bilbo thinks as he holds on for dear life. _Maybe we'll make it in time after all._  
  
These thoughts lighten his heart and he has hope now that they might actually survive this- that Kíli will survive and his struggle won't have been for nothing. So the hobbit settles himself more comfortably on the bear's wide back and tries to ignore the way his friend whimpers each time his injuries are jarred. Despite Bilbo's best efforts and the smoothness of Beorn's stride, this is more often than he'd like and the hobbit is almost grateful when Kíli passes out again.  
  
The trip lasts for hours at the same breakneck pace and Bilbo's hands are cramping by the time the bear finally slows down. In the distance he can see a large wooden hall standing in a meadow, its roof glowing softly beneath the sun's first rays. Truthfully the building could be a shack and it would still be the most beautiful thing that he'd ever seen because it means salvation and the skin-changer lopes over to it before kneeling by the door.  
  
The hobbit hops off quickly and turns just in time to catch Kíli's unconscious form as he slides limply toward the ground. He staggers under the dwarf's dead weight, supporting him as best he can until Beorn shifts again and lifts Kíli from Bilbo's arms to carry him gently inside.  
  
Trying not to hover, the hobbit follows a few steps behind and watches with worry from the sidelines as the man lays his friend out upon his table and strips him down to see his wounds.  
  
After three nights the dwarf looks like death, his bruises dark against his skin. Now that his cloak is off Bilbo can see that his right shoulder is swelling black and purple, blisters have formed and cracked all along his side and when Beorn removes the bandages, several of his wounds appear inflamed. Finally, when the skin-changer checks Kíli over one more time, he discovers that several of the dwarf's ribs are broken and more are likely cracked.  
  
The man sends the hobbit out to gather water and other supplies and when he returns Beorn is gently straightening Kíli's injured arm. Within the man's giant hands his friend looks tiny, small and fragile like he never has before, and Bilbo cannot keep from gasping when the skin-changer jerks the limb sharply.  
  
However, although the dwarf moans even while unconscious, his arm moves easier afterward and his pinched expression eases when Beorn wraps a poultice around the joint.  
  
 _That is what I want to learn_ , the hobbit thinks, for there is something almost magic about such healing skill. So he watches intently as the man leeches pus and infection from Kíli's wounds even though the sight makes his stomach turn. Bilbo is there to hand Beorn bandages when he holds out his hand and empty the bucket when the water becomes foul. He helps bind the dwarf's ribs to make them heal correctly and rubs salve across a score of burns and cuts.  
  
When the man realizes that his interest is more than worry over his friend, Beorn starts explaining each of his actions and the reasoning behind them beneath Bilbo's avid gaze. The hobbit listens carefully, soaking up as much information as he can for he has an ill feeling that he might need such knowledge again before their journey is complete.  
  
It takes them hours to finish treating Kíli and when they are finally done, Beorn carries their patient into a spare bedroom before pulling Bilbo to the side.  
  
“Your friend will be all right and there should be no lasting damage if he is careful while he heals. It seems the tales of dwarven strength are true for no man of my acquaintance could have walked so far carrying those wounds. However, such feats have their cost and he will sleep for quite some time while his body recovers from the ordeal. You should also rest now for you will do him no good exhausted and the bed is large enough to fit two small folks like you.”  
  
“Oh no, I couldn't,” The hobbit protests, blushing deeply at the impropriety. Even without his deviancy such a thing would not be done back home, but the skin-changer just overrides his refusal gently.  
  
“You do not want your friend to hurt himself further if he wakes disoriented and alone, do you? Sleep little rabbit and leave propriety for another day. Everything will seem clearer once you rest.”  
  
Beorn ushers Bilbo into the room and closes the door softly behind him, but even though the hobbit is exhausted he cannot sleep, not with Kíli laying there so pale and still. It is unnatural to see the dwarf this quiet for even in his sleep he usually mumbled and moved around and the hobbit finds himself placing a palm on the other's chest just to check that he still breathes. The faint but steady heartbeat and slow breaths are reassuring and Bilbo grasps the dwarf's hand in his when he sits beside the bed.  
  
“You'll be all right now,” the hobbit tells him, as much hope as promise. “Once you've healed, we'll find a way to prove the truth to Thorin and I'll help you get your life back, no matter what it takes. So you can't give up again, not now. Fíli would be devastated and I would miss you terribly as well because I-”  
  
 _I think that I could love you-_  
  
“I care for you as a friend.” Bilbo finishes with a whisper, burying the other thought deep within his mind. He had tried so hard to be accepted in the Shire but he had never been able to overcome the stigma of his past and sometimes he hated that fauntling who had not known to hide the truth.  
  
Even though it had been years since that ill-fated day, hobbits do not forgive and gossip had followed Bilbo long before he left to go on this mad adventure, whispers which kept him friendless and alone. So he is not going to ruin Kíli's opinion of him now by revealing his abnormal desires; friendship will be enough, it must be, and he will be satisfied simply to have the other in his life.  
  
The hobbit falls asleep like that, one hand on the dwarf's heart and the other holding his hand, and for the first time in days, his dreams are free of sorrow.  
  
\---  
  
When Bilbo wakes, he discovers that he has slept the day away and the light of the setting sun shines through the western window. Kíli is still sleeping on the other half of the bed so the hobbit takes a moment to check his friend's condition before stretching carefully and tiptoeing out of the room.  
  
Beorn's house is bafflingly enormous for one used to hobbit holes and he becomes lost for quite awhile before finding his way back to the kitchen and his host. As he enters the room, Bilbo breathes in deep because the air smells fantastic and when he looks around, the hobbit sees Beorn skillfully cooking something over the fire.  
  
The man has obviously been at his task for some time since the entire table is laden with an impressive spread of food that would be fit for the Shire Thain himself. The hobbit walks closer, staring at the feast in awe and trying not to think about how long it has been since he had a proper meal. He is also trying not to drool but he can't stop his stomach from rumbling and at the sound, the skin-changer turns to smile at him cheerfully.  
  
“Hello, little one, did you sleep well? I thought you would be hungry. Please, take a seat.” The man says, waving toward the table with one hand.  
  
“Yes, thank you. I slept like a log and this looks amazing.” Bilbo replies as he climbs up onto a chair. “Though I hope our unexpected arrival didn't put you out?”  
  
“You are no trouble at all. I do not have guests often so my stores are full and the last company I had was not nearly as appreciative or deserving of my aid.”  
  
The hobbit's mood dims at the thought of the other dwarves for Beorn's words remind him of Kíli's situation. “I'm sorry to hear that. Are we very far behind them then?” He asks, wondering how they're going to clear the dwarf's good name if they can't even manage to catch up.  
  
“Thorin Oakenshield and his company left yesterday morning and Gandalf not long after.”  
  
This news surprises Bilbo for he thought that the wizard would be traveling to Erebor as well. “They didn't leave together?”  
  
“No,” Beorn shakes his head while he takes the last dish off the fire. “The dwarves headed into the Mirkwood while Gandalf was called north on some secret business. I tell you, nothing good shall come in days when wizards gather. But he also left this for you in case you passed my way.”  
  
The skin-changer hands the hobbit a letter and begins to serve their meal as Bilbo reads the wizard's note.  
  
  
 _My dear hobbit,  
  
I hope this message finds you well and I am sorry that I cannot be there to tell you this in person, but the leader of my order has summoned my brethren to council.  
  
Thorin and his company are traveling on to Mirkwood even as I write this for the dwarves believe that you are dead or fled back to your home. However, I have faith that this is not the case and indeed I feel that we will meet again before this quest is through. That said, there is a difficult choice ahead of you and only you can decide the path that you will take.  
  
Should you choose to return to the Shire and leave this adventure behind you, no one could fault you after the ill treatment that you've faced. However, if you decide to follow the dwarves instead, Beorn will be able to help with your supplies and I left him with a map of the route that you should take. While this choice must be yours alone, I hope that you think carefully before you decide for I fear that you may be more important than you know.  
  
There is something dark stirring in the world and although I find that I cannot see which path will bring a kinder fate, I do know that the future may shift upon the smallest fulcrum. Trust your heart and your good sense and I am sure that you will come out all right in the end. Take care until we meet again.  
  
Your friend,  
Gandalf the Grey_  
  
  
Bilbo is not sure what to think when he puts down the letter and truly his feelings are mixed. First there is doubt, for while he is pleased to know that Gandalf trusts him, the hobbit is not sure that he deserves it. All this talk of fate and evil has him far out of his depth and what could he possibly do to save the world?  
  
At the same time, part of Bilbo is still furious with the wizard for allowing Thorin to abandon them so easily and the fact that he did not mention the dwarf at all only fans this flame. Gandalf wouldn't have known that the hobbit had rescued Kíli while he was writing this message and did the wizard really think Bilbo wouldn't care to know about the other's fate?  
  
 _Do they all consider him worth so little, even those that should be on his side?_   His fists clench tight around the paper and the hobbit shoves the crumpled note in his pocket when the skin-changer hands him a brimming plate.  
  
The food is fantastic and some of Bilbo's anger abates as he focuses on eating his fill for the first time in almost a month. By the time he sits back with a satisfied sigh, Beorn looks rather impressed because the hobbit has matched him nearly bite for bite, and when the man offers him a pipe, Bilbo's day is finally complete.  
  
Although his pouch of Old Toby was ruined by water in the tunnels underground, the man has a decent stash and the hobbit allows the comfortable familiarity of smoking to wash some of his cares away. Yet when he finishes they all come rushing back and Bilbo makes his excuses, wanting to return to Kíli before something, anything, happens and he would have rushed out of the room if Beorn had not grabbed his hand.  
  
“Patience,” The man cautions, tugging him gently back into his chair. “You will do your friend no good if you run yourself ragged and you will need your energy for when he finally wakes. I will check on the dwarf again before you return to sleep, so rest now and tell me how he looked to you.”  
  
“He is better, I think.” Bilbo replies as he tries to remember everything the skin-changer had taught him that morning. “He has more color and his breathing is stronger, but I am pretty sure that he has a fever as well and we should probably replace his bandages soon.”  
  
“About what I expected then,” the man replies thoughtfully. “We will have to watch the heat but he is young and strong so do not worry over much. And by the sound of it we'll make a healer of you yet.”  
  
Beorn laughs heartily at this last before handing the hobbit a steaming mug of tea which Bilbo takes happily, grateful for the warmth. Then the man sobers, face serious as he continues. “Now my small friend, now I think you must tell me the tale of your journey in those mountains and what happened to lead you to my door. How did you become separated from your companions and why did no one mention that dwarf to me?”  
  
The hobbit wraps his hands tighter around his cup and looks down uncomfortably, but he can hardly refuse the man after everything he's done and maybe a new perspective will help him decide his course.  
  
“I'm not sure that I would call it a tale for that implies deeds worth remembering and this is not a happy story. It was the goblins who hurt Kíli, physically at least, though I do not know why only he was tortured. Truthfully I know very little about what happened to him there, though some of it I can guess from the scars upon his skin. When we were captured, I fell into the depths and by the time I found my way to the surface the rest of the company had escaped. All of them but Kíli, whom they had left to die alone.”  
  
Once he reaches this part of his narrative, Bilbo feels himself grow angry once again and his knuckles whiten when his fingers clench around the mug.  
  
“I...They didn't see me but I heard them talking about it and...His brother wanted to go back but Thorin wouldn't let him...He thinks that Kíli betrayed him though I don't know why and somehow he convinced the others even though he's _wrong_. They all left, even Gandalf; they just abandoned Kíli and I simply couldn't...How could they do that? So I went back for him and when I found him....”  
  
Words fail the hobbit as his throat closes with tears and he shrugs helplessly.  
  
“The goblins were going to keep hurting him so I- I got him out of there and I did what I could for his wounds but it wasn't enough. If you hadn't found us ...I don't know what I would have done if he had died, so thank you. I am forever in your debt for this and I only wish I could have helped him more.”  
  
Bilbo hangs his head dejectedly when he finishes, crushed by the weight of his failures and the emotions that the story brought to bear. However, he looks up when Beorn responds, patting his arm gently.  
  
“I have experienced betrayal many times in my life and yet I do not have an answer for you because there are far too many things that cause loyalty to fail. However, I can tell you that the decision does not sit easily within the company and your story explains much of the tension that I saw. There are definitely those who are on Kíli's side, including his brother, and they will be overjoyed to know that both of you are still alive.  
  
"And you have nothing to be sorry for little one, nothing at all. You saved your friend's life when his own kin would not and that is worth far more than you might know. So even if Gandalf had not asked me to help I would still be honored to have aided one as brave and loyal as you.”  
  
At these words the hobbit shakes his head in bafflement but the skin-changer's gaze is sincere and there is conviction in his voice.  
  
“You do not give yourself enough credit, little one, and perhaps you do not realize that you are more fox than rabbit after all. There is no debt between us for claiming payment from two in such need would bring naught but shame upon my house and I think without me you would still have found a way. You did far more than any could have asked and your friend would tell you the same were he awake to hear this. Indeed your dwarf is lucky to have you and he will need your support in the days to come.”  
  
“He's not _my_ dwarf. I mean he's my friend so of course I helped him, I would have done the same for anyone.” But the statement feels like a lie beneath Beorn's steady gaze and Bilbo finds that he cannot meet the other's eyes as his wall of denial finally crumbles.  
  
How can the hobbit deny that he is well on his way to falling in love with Kíli when he risked his life for him without a thought and he knows in his heart that he would **not** have done the same for all the rest? What else could it be when the idea of the other dying makes him feel as if all joy would leave his world and he would do anything if it meant the dwarf would smile at him once more?  
  
Yet just because Bilbo admits his feelings does not mean he has to act on them and he resolves to guard his thoughts with care. Kíli doesn't deserve the burden of his regard and he wouldn't want the dwarf to be uncomfortable around him while he heals. Nor if he is being honest does Bilbo want to be rejected and called a freak again, in a repeat of Ruddo Brandybuck so many years before.  
  
Thankfully the skin-changer seems to sense his discomfort for he turns the discussion to lighter topics and soon the hobbit is yawning in his chair. This time the man allows him to head back to his room, following along to check on Kíli's progress.  
  
Beorn changes the bandages and poultices on the worst of the dwarf's injuries before declaring himself satisfied with his patient's condition, though he warns Bilbo that Kíli may wake up delirious and violent from the pain. Then the skin-changer wishes the hobbit a good night and leaves the room while his guest stares after him in shock.  
  
 _He just...he trusts me? Even though he knows..._ Bilbo is certainly not planning on molesting Kíli in his sleep but no hobbit would have believed that. No hobbit has so trusted him in decades, always watching him suspiciously when they talk to him alone and glaring as they herd their children to the other side of the path. He is so used to being the monster, the deviant that respectable society politely ostracizes that Beorn's calm acceptance leaves him standing in bewilderment.  
  
 _Maybe other races allow it? Allow people like me to fall in love like any other?_   Bilbo wonders, a tiny flicker of hope igniting deep within. _Maybe this could be normal?_  
  
But he quashes that idea quickly for the hobbit knows well the pain of foolish dreams. _Yeah right. As if loving other men would ever be accepted and a male dwarf, impossible...Beorn probably just trusts me because of Gandalf or I was wrong and he doesn't actually know the desires of my heart._  
  
The hobbit turns back to Kíli and now that his denial has been lifted, Bilbo realizes that he must have been pining over the dwarf for quite some time. There is a comfortable familiarity in the path that his eyes travel over the other's features as though it is something that they have done a thousand times before. Similarly, the ache in his chest when he looks down at Kíli and the desire to lean over and kiss those parted lips do not have the sharp bite of new sensations.  
  
No, these feelings are well rooted and almost overwhelming now that Beorn has dragged them into the light. However, Bilbo has a lifetime of practice at repression and after indulging himself for a moment, he shoves those urges from his mind. So instead the hobbit simply tucks Kíli's hair behind his ears and kisses him softly on the forehead before laying down to sleep several feet away.  
  
\---  
  
Although Bilbo can no longer deny the attraction that he feels, over the days that follow the hobbit is far too busy to worry about how he will manage to hide his interest from his friend.  
  
When Kíli finally wakes, the dwarf is delirious with fever just as Beorn predicted and it takes Bilbo nearly an hour to convince him that there is no danger near so he can slip away to find their host. The skin-changer forces the hobbit to eat breakfast while he takes care of Kíli but as soon as he has finished, Bilbo is back at the dwarf's side.  
  
Since he refuses to leave again except when he absolutely must, the man teaches him how to change bandages and keep wounds clean, how to reduce a fever and the herbs to use for sleep and pain. As the hobbit's skill grows, Beorn gives the dwarf over to his increasingly competent care and goes about his business, returning only periodically to check that nothing has gone wrong.  
  
However, even with just a single patient, Bilbo discovers that there is always something that needs to be done, if only general housework and soothing the dwarf's fears. For with the fever come nightmares and delusions and the hobbit wants to weep at the anguish in Kíli's voice when he cries out for his brother or for the pain to stop. Only Bilbo's presence seems to calm him, so he spends hours sitting at the dwarf's bedside and holding tight onto his hands.  
  
Nearly a week passes in this manner as Kíli's body slowly heals beneath the hobbit's careful ministrations so it is an enormous relief when his fever finally breaks and the dwarf sleeps peacefully for the first time in days.  
  
Yet it is also terrifying because Bilbo is worried that when his friend finally wakes everything will fall apart. The hobbit has resolved to never speak a word of how he feels and help Kíli through the struggle still to come. However, he does not know how long he can hide his attraction and once the dwarf discovers the truth, Bilbo fully expects to be cast out.  
  
When that day comes he will leave without a fight, but until then the hobbit swears that he will support Kíli, he will take care of him and he will always love him in the deepest reaches of his soul.

 


	3. Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 7000 words of dialogue and introspection. And love, can't forget that.

_Everything hurts,_ is the first thought in Kíli's mind when he wakes to see a wooden ceiling stretching high above his head. A wooden ceiling when he had been expecting sky or stone and he feels confusion well up within him at the sight. _Weren't we out in the woods?_  
  
The dwarf turns his head to look around warily and feels some of his worry ease when he notices Bilbo dozing by his side, though a phantom sensation of greater agony still burns beneath his skin.  
  
“Where...Where are we?” He asks hesitantly, voice rough and cracking from disuse. Kíli knows that the burglar would not sleep so deeply if they were still in danger, but his memories are a muddle of pain and nightmares which leave him deeply unsettled. Indeed the hobbit is the only clear thing that he remembers amidst the whirlwind of despair and he has a strange feeling that he may not like the answers that he seeks.  
  
At the sound of the dwarf's voice, Bilbo stirs and when he opens his eyes a brilliant smile forms upon his face. “Kíli, you're awake! And coherent!” The hobbit says, bending over to hug him tightly and Kíli cannot help but lean into the other's comforting warmth even while his confusion grows.  
  
 _Was I speaking gibberish before?_   He wonders as Bilbo helps him sit up against the headboard and the pain caused by moving starts to clear his head.  
  
“To answer your question, we've been staying with a friend of Gandalf's while you healed from your ordeal. I- How much do you remember?” The hobbit asks as he perches on the side of the bed, one hand on Kíli's arm like he's afraid the dwarf will disappear without his touch  
  
However, Kíli finds the weight of his hand soothing and he uses it to anchor him in the present as he tries to recall what happened in the days before. “We...we were in the Misty Mountains, traveling toward Erebor and there was rain and maybe thunder? I remember fear but not the cause and then...goblins captured us and we fell into the fiery dark beneath the earth.” The dwarf frowns in concentration, trying to cut through the haze within his mind.  
  
“I think their leader wanted information...but uncle wouldn't submit to him. So they...they took me away from the others though I tried to fight and then I- I was tortured...tortured for a long time because I refused to speak the words they wished to hear.”  
  
Remembering that pain makes him shudder violently, flashes of the goblins' grinning faces intermixed with piercing agony behind his eyes. Yet there is a bright spot amidst all that darkness and Kíli's heart is filled with gratitude as he looks over at the hobbit who saved his life. “But you came for me, I remember that. You rescued me from the caverns and brought me back into the light.”  
  
Bilbo ducks his head, apparently embarrassed by the dwarf's heartfelt thanks and Kíli is momentarily distracted from his account by the adorableness of the other's blush. Yet he cannot escape his memories this easily and his mood sours when he begins to recall what happened next.  
  
“The others were already gone, weren't they? You- I thought they would be waiting for me but they left, they left us both.” Kíli hopes for a moment that this part of the story was all just some fevered dream but the sorrow in the hobbit's eyes as he nods in answer dashes this hope firmly and the dwarf lets out a bitter laugh.  
  
“So it's true then. Uncle thinks that I betrayed him and he's disowned me, branded me a traitor just like that. I hope the bastard at least feels guilty.” There is a pit of despair growing within him, the same dark pit from which he spoke when he told Bilbo to leave him to die up on the mountain. Thorin has stripped away everything that the dwarf held dear and Kíli was not lying when he said that all the Sigin-tarâg would now be honor bound to strike him down.  
  
So what life is left for him if he cannot even return to the lands that he called home? What life is there without his family? While the dwarf never put too much stock in being a prince, his heritage was still a part of him and he feels bereft without the strength of his ancestors standing at his back. If he is no longer a Durin then he is only Kíli, and the young dwarf is discovering that this is a very lonely thing to be.  
  
For that matter, what life is there without Fíli riding by his side and his chest aches with the pain that his brother must be feeling now. He would never have left Kíli willingly and the dwarf wonders what kind of dire punishment uncle had threatened to make him go, to make all of his companions leave their friend behind.  
  
Yet somehow he cannot fall into despair the way he did before and he cannot give up the last spark of hope within his heart. Even though he knows the road ahead will be difficult at best, Kíli also knows that he will walk it anyway because in truth he is not alone at all. Bilbo is sitting next to him, watching the dwarf with concern on his kind face and when the hobbit reaches a hand out hesitantly, he takes it in his own.  
  
“Do not worry,” Kíli tells him gently, “I remember your lecture and I'm not going to do anything suicidal, I promise.”  
  
He means every word despite the despair that still lingers on the edges of his thoughts because the clearest moment he can recall in the last few days is Bilbo vowing that he will live or die by his side. No matter how terrible his life now seems, Kíli cannot repay such loyalty by giving up and he will not abandon those that he still loves.  
  
Only if he survives to reveal the truth will he be able to rejoin Fíli without dishonoring his brother's name and so he will endure the pain and sorrow as long as he must. He does not know what struggles the future holds, but as long as Bilbo doesn't abandon him, Kíli thinks that he can face it.  
  
“I'm glad to hear that,” The hobbit tells him, reaching up to cup the dwarf's cheek and bringing him out of his thoughts. “You nearly died once already and I could not bear it if you gave up now.”  
  
Kíli's heart aches at the honest worry on the other's face and he can do nothing but answer it as sincerely as he can. “Have no fear of that. Your concern helps keep hope burning in my soul and I promise that I will live to clear my name and return to those who love me. But first we will need to think of a plan that will convince my uncle of his error.”  
  
These words make an odd light shine in Bilbo's eyes and if the dwarf didn't know better he would think it was affection, or even something more. Yet he does know better so Kíli shakes the thought from his mind and foolishly tries to stand. Time is of the essence and he wants to begin preparing for the future, but as his injuries scream with pain, the dwarf falls back with a gasp instead.  
  
“Are you okay?” Bilbo asks, moving quickly to support his weight. “Let me get Beorn to check your wounds.”  
  
 _Fuck that hurt. This may take longer than I thought._ Kíli smiles at the hobbit weakly, reaching out to grab his arm. “Stay, please. I'm fine, I'm fine. That was just a mistake. It seems step one is actually to heal and we'll deal with the rest after that.”  
  
“All right. I can stay for a little while since I've learned enough to look at your wounds myself.” The hobbit says, settling back by his side and unwrapping the first of the dwarf's many bandages. “But when I'm done I'm going to find Beorn so we can ask him about your recovery and then decide what we should do next.”  
  
Kíli watches in amazement as Bilbo proceeds to treat his injuries with efficiency and skill, finding himself quite admiring this competent healer whom he has never seen before. “Where did you learn this?” He asks, wondering what other talents their burglar has been keeping under wraps.  
  
But the hobbit just smiles humbly, flushing again beneath Kíli's appreciative gaze. “Beorn's been teaching me while you were sick. I asked for lessons because I felt so helpless in the caverns without the knowledge to treat your wounds.”  
  
“You are amazing,” The dwarf says and he truly believes it. Bilbo has already done far more than any could have asked and yet instead of taking a well-deserved rest, the hobbit is working hard to better help everyone around him. Who would have thought that such a selfless heart beat within this seemingly ordinary person and the dwarf resolves to never judge anyone on appearances again.  
  
 _Thorin has no idea what he let slip through his fingers,_ Kíli thinks, remembering the way his uncle had looked on Bilbo with disdain. _But I have never met a braver nor more loyal soul and I am sure that together we will be able to set things right._  
  
\---  
  
The dwarf needs his friend's support over the days that follow because while his fever may finally have broken, he still has many wounds to heal. Kíli finds it incredibly frustrating to be abandoned by the body that had always served him well and while he knows it will take time, patience has never been one of his virtues.  
  
It is Bilbo who comforts him when he wants to scream at his own failures and Bilbo who helps him with even the simplest of tasks. While the pain which awoke him was far less than the torture he faced within the mountains, the dwarf discovers that even his lifting his arms is an agony and it is another day before Beorn allows him to leave his bed.  
  
“You must have patience young one,” the skin-changer tells him when Kíli asks how long his recovery will take. “You are lucky to be alive but such feats have their cost and your body will require a great deal of rest before it can serve you as it did before.”  
  
“I know that...” The dwarf sighs, settling back against the pillows and trying to resign himself to the wait. “But there are things that I must do and I cannot help but feel that time is running out.”  
  
Beorn smiles down at him, the kindness in the man's expression still a strange contrast to his size and deadly skills. “Now is not the time for doing, my friend, it is the time to heal. You will do those you love no good if you rush to their aid before you are ready. Rest and plan for the future so that when the moment comes you will know where you must strike.”  
  
That is the kind of advice a dwarf can follow and Kíli thanks him sincerely, promising that he will take the skin-changer's words to heart. Yet he still chafes at his restrictions and he does not know how he would cope without Bilbo there to take his mind off all that he cannot do.  
  
While the man stops in to check on him from time to time, the hobbit is his primary companion and they have much to talk about. At first the pair spends their time discussing the plan for the future, although there are so many unknowns that it is difficult to know how the dice will fall.  
  
“Thorin will never believe that I'm innocent from just our word alone, not for something like this.” Kíli tells the hobbit as Bilbo helps him stretch his arm. “However, if we can convince the others that would be a start.”  
  
“Would **they** believe us? At least some of them probably agree that you're a traitor and you know what they think of me.” The other replies doubtfully, biting his lip in thought.  
  
“Fíli will for sure, and I think seeing me will convince anyone who already has doubts. I've obviously been tortured and that should be proof enough for most that I did not betray them to the goblins, especially with your story to back me up.” The dwarf says, wincing as Bilbo reaches a particularly sore spot. “However uncle will probably take more than that; he's never been one to second guess himself.”  
  
“But we don't have any other proof of your innocence. How are we supposed to prove you **didn't** do something?”  
  
That is the mithril question and Kíli feels himself becoming depressed again at the hopelessness of his cause. Even if everyone else believes them, the dwarf cannot reclaim his place until his uncle clears him of his crime and this is a seemingly impossible task. However, the sight of Bilbo looking so disheartened makes his chest clench with a different sort of pain and he speaks quickly to put the light back in those eyes.  
  
“By finding the one who did.” He declares in a stroke of inspiration that must come from Mahal himself. “The real traitor is bound to strike again and when he does that will be our moment. If we can catch him in the act, uncle will have to believe me, particularly if we can get him to confess to warning the goblins as well.”  
  
“And how exactly are we supposed to do that?” Is Bilbo's skeptical reply, but even this does not dampen the dwarf's mood.  
  
“I have no idea,” Kíli replies cheerfully and at the hobbit's quizzical look, he explains the reasoning that has joy blooming in his heart. “We've figured out what we need to do if not how we're going to do it, and an intricate plan probably wouldn't hold up anyway because we're missing too much information. Once we catch up with the others we'll discover where they stand and if the traitor strikes again while we're missing then convincing everyone might be easier than you think. And once our companions are on our side they can help us deal with Thorin, if only to discover exactly what convinced him of my guilt.”  
  
“That seems reasonable enough,” His friend muses, thinking it over with a frown. “Acting without a solid plan makes me somewhat nervous but us hobbits always like to have everything worked out before we commit ourselves, even when it isn't feasible.”  
  
“Unfortunately you're dealing with dwarves now,” The archer replies with a grin. “And Dwalin always says the first rule of battle is that no plan ever survives contact with the enemy so I figure we might as well wait on the details 'til we see the lay of the land.”  
  
“I'm pretty sure you're still supposed to make the plan,” Bilbo retorts with a smile of his own, before giving it up with a shrug. “But in this case you might be right since we won't know where we stand until we talk to the others. Which means that you need to heal before we can do anything.”  
  
“I know, I know.” Kíli sighs in disgust. “But it's going so slowly and I'm worried about what Fíli might do without me.”  
  
“You've only been awake for a day. Give it time my impatient dwarf and I'm sure the others will look after your brother as best they can. Now, have you heard the tale of Bullroarer Took and the Goblin King? A story would make the hours pass more quickly.”  
  
The dwarf has not heard that tale and so the afternoon is wiled away with songs and myths taken from both their peoples until Kíli falls asleep with a smile on his face.  
  
However, there are only so many tales to tell and as the dwarf's recovery drags on, his mood begins to dim again. Yet somehow Bilbo remains ever cheerful and endlessly supportive no matter how the other yells in frustration and Kíli cannot help but wonder why the hobbit is putting up with him like this. Yes they are friends and perhaps are even on their way to being close ones, but his actions go far above and beyond the usual bonds of such loyalty.  
  
But whenever the dwarf asks for an explanation or simply thanks Bilbo for everything he's done, the other just smiles and blushes, saying that he could do nothing else. However, while Kíli knows that the hobbit's kind heart would not have let him abandon anyone easily there is a difference between caring and risking your own life on a suicidal rescue mission.  
  
He had wondered about Bilbo in the past because sometimes when the other looked at him there was a softness in his eyes that reminded the dwarf of his parents before his father died. That softness had raised his suspicions from the start but Kíli had been too busy trying to survive to do more than wonder back then.  
  
However, now the young dwarf has nothing but time on his hands and he watches Bilbo carefully to see what he can see. While Kíli has a theory of what the hobbit's actions mean, he will not act without more cause for if his uncle's abandonment has taught him anything, it's that assumptions are not proof.  
  
The stakes are too high to chance it because if the dwarf is right then both their lives may be changed forever, and he does not want to risk their friendship on the whisper of a dream.  
  
\---  
  
Over the next few days Kíli has trouble believing what he discovers, for he never would have thought that the hobbit could actually feel that way for him. Yet Bilbo seems to feel the dwarf's pain as though it were his own and blushes scarlet beneath the archer's smile. He is interested in what Kíli has to say, takes care of him without being patronizing and smacks him when he's in a snit.  
  
Every proper dwarf knows this could only mean one thing, but he is still afraid to act on what he sees because what if hobbits are different? What if hobbits are simply incredibly affectionate and loyal friends, willing to risk their lives for those they barely know?  
  
 _All right so that's unlikely, but how could he truly care that way for me? A respectable landed hobbit courting a inexperienced young dwarf, the prince of a fallen kingdom with nothing to offer him, not even his name. It just doesn't make any sense and if Bilbo really does love me, why hasn't he said anything? Unless he's waiting for us to prove my innocence first so that he can court me with honor instead of shame. But shouldn't he at least tell me of his esteem to stake his claim? The only way it makes any sense is if he's the one who feels unworthy and does not want to impose on me. But that's crazy..._  
  
Kíli finds his thoughts spinning in circles, unable to decide on the path that he should take. His people do not take love lightly and he does not wish to speak if he might be rejected, but he also does not wish to miss an opportunity to fill the longing in his heart.  
  
The dwarf cares for Bilbo deeply and has admired him for quite some time, but he never thought that the attraction would actually be returned so he ignored it the best he could. This admiration has only deepened recently as he's gotten to know the hobbit better and seen the truth of his brave spirit, and Kíli knows that they would be well-matched indeed.  
  
But he is still afraid and thus the dwarf waits instead of speaking and he watches instead of reaching and eventually he cannot take it anymore. So the next time that Bilbo leaves his side to deal with other matters, Kíli gathers his courage and stops Beorn when he comes to check on his recovery.  
  
“I- Can I talk to you about something? About Bilbo?” The dwarf asks hesitantly, looking up at the skin-changer.  
  
“Of course you may, young one. But surely you know your friend better than I?” The man replies, crouching next to the bed with a kind smile.  
  
Kíli flushes beneath Beorn's gaze and stumbles over his words as he tries to think of a subtle way to discover what he wants to know. “Well maybe, I mean I might. But I can't ask him about this and I know you talked while I was unconscious. He speaks very highly of you and everything I've seen has shown your worth.”  
  
“You have a silver tongue my friend, but you do not need to flatter me. I will answer your question if I can.” Beorn says, grinning in amusement as the dwarf's blush deepens. “Speak your worries without fear for a troubled mind will impede your body's healing.”  
  
“I... I... I just don't know where to start. I think... Do you think Bilbo likes me?” As soon as the words leave his mouth, Kíli winces, ducking his head in embarrassment.  
  
“You're his friend young one, of course he likes you. Although perhaps you did not mean it quite like that?” He smiles down at the dwarf gently as he continues. “I would have thought his actions spoke for him but if you are unsure why do you not ask your hobbit what he carries in his heart?”  
  
“I just can't risk it. Even if he does care for me I have nothing to offer him now and there must be a reason that he hasn't spoken of it. What if I screw everything up?” Kíli shakes his head in denial and looks up with pleading eyes. _Help me decide what I should do._  
  
Beorn sighs and pats the dwarf gently on the shoulder. “I forget how young you are, a warrior and yet little more than a child in these matters. I do not know why Bilbo has not spoken to you, but I assure you that it is not for lack of worth. I have seen the care in his eyes and he loves you truly just as you care for him. So take courage and tell him of how you feel for whatever obstacle stands in your way cannot be breached with silence.”  
  
These words strike somewhere deep within his soul and Kíli knows that the man is right. He would regret it forever if he let Bilbo slip through his fingers and even if he is wrong and the hobbit rejects him, the dwarf will know that it was not cowardice that broke his heart.  
  
So he thanks the skin-changer for his wisdom and steels himself to talk to Bilbo when he returns, spurred on by Beorn's encouraging wink as he walks out the door. The dwarf knows that he needs to speak before he loses his nerve again, so Kíli takes the hobbit's arm and pulls him down to sit by him on the bed.  
  
“Bilbo, we need to talk.” The dwarf says but before he can continue, the other slumps down, eyes sad and accepting as he nods.  
  
“You've figured it out then. I'm sorry, I'll pack my bags and leave in the morning.” Bilbo tells him dully before starting to get up, only to be stopped when Kíli grabs his wrist in panic.  
  
“Wait! Why would you leave? Did I do something wrong?” His heart hammers in his chest for this reaction is worse than any of his fears. Even rejection would cause him less pain than this and the dwarf desperately wants to know what has happened to cause Bilbo to abandon him.  
  
“You don't want me to leave? I- I thought you knew how I felt.” The hobbit's voice is bewildered and at his obvious distress Kíli feels his own confusion grow. _Something is very strange here. Are we both talking about the same thing because if he loves me why would he flee the moment I bring it up?_  
  
“I do, well I hope I do, though now I'm not so sure. But I don't understand why you think I would ever cast you away. Even if this is all some horrible misunderstanding and you don't return my admiration, you're still my friend and I'd hope you'd say the same.”  
  
“Return your admiration? I'm the one that shouldn't be in love with you!” Bilbo cries out aghast and for a moment the dwarf is filled with joy at the confirmation of his hopes. _In love...he's in love with me too!_   But then the other continues and that joy is tinged with sorrow once again. “I know it's wrong and I should have at least hidden my feelings better so you wouldn't have to bear the weight of my shameful attraction. You are worth so much more than that.”  
  
“Shame, what shame? And why do you think you're inferior? I'm the one who has nothing to offer.”  
  
“Because we're both males and that is not as Yavanna teaches. Men must lay with women so that the seed of new life may be born into the world; there is no place for deviants like me in her design. I'm sorry, I've tried to stamp these fell desires out of my heart but they refuse to die.”  
  
These words shock Kíli greatly and he is filled with grief that Bilbo has had to live for so long believing such lies about himself. If this is what hobbits truly think then no wonder he stayed silent and yet it is almost unthinkable to the dwarf that anyone could have this view. While Balin always says that every race is entitled to their own beliefs and sees virtue through its own eyes, Kíli cannot let this misconception stand when it is causing his love this much pain. So the dwarf takes Bilbo's hands in his own and puts all of his love and conviction in his voice as he tries to convince his hobbit that there can be another way.  
  
“You are not a deviant! I do not know what sacrifices Yavanna requires from her people, but Aulë's children know that all love is sacred no matter what form it takes. Why else would he build so many more dwarrows than dwarrowdams and tie our hearts so tightly to the crafts of gem and stone? Is this why you did not tell me, because you feared that I would hate you for some imagined sin?”  
  
“How can you not? I don't...I don't understand. Everyone has always hated me, ever since I let my crush slip to Ruddo Brandybuck when I was in my tweens and he told all the Shire of my shame. Do dwarves actually find this normal?”  
  
“Not normal, extraordinary.” Kíli answers, cupping the hobbit's cheek gently. “Love of any kind is a gift from the Valar which should be treasured, not denied. There is no shame here unless you allow yourself to bring it and I truly hope that you do not. How could I hate you when the same feelings burn within my heart and you care for who I am rather than my family’s name? When you care for me despite all that I have lost?”  
  
“You really share my love? I thought... but how could you? I'm just a middle-aged hobbit, a deviant, and you're a prince; you could have any lass you wanted. Why would you join in my disgrace?”  
  
“I'm no prince, not anymore. Now I am just Kíli and I see no disgrace in returning the love of the brave, kind, and loyal hobbit who saved my life. You have more than proved your worth to any doubters and if you will allow me, I will love you with all that I am.”  
  
“I can't! I can't let you do that. It would ruin you.” The hobbit's voice is anguished and his eyes fill with regret as he starts to get up again.  
  
“I promise you no dwarves will judge us, not for that. If anything you will lose status by associating with one branded a traitor such as me and if the other hobbits cannot accept you for who you are then they are not true friends at all.” Bilbo hesitates, obviously torn and Kíli feels a spark of hope when the hobbit settles back down on the bed. _Please listen to me. Do not break both our hearts in an attempt to protect my nonexistent reputation._  
  
“I don't know. I just... I do love you really but I... I've spent my whole life thinking that this was wrong, that **I** was wrong, even as I hoped...”  
  
“I will not force you into anything and we can remain no more than friends if that is truly what you want. But I love you too and if you let me, I will gladly wait however long it takes for you to believe in the truth of my words. Let us create something beautiful together, Bilbo. Let our love shine as one instead of forcing our hearts to wither away in darkness. Please, love.”  
  
“Are you sure? I mean, I don't know what I'm doing and I'll probably freak out sometimes. What if I do something wrong? Or what if it takes years before I can really accept this as allowed? You deserve better than that.” The hobbit will not look at him as he lists out his faults and Kíli's heart is near to breaking at the other's obvious insecurity. Yet he is not refusing outright and the dwarf has hope that with time and patience, he will be able to show his love that there is nothing to be ashamed of here.  
  
“I don't want better, Bilbo, I want you and whatever that entails. If it takes years before you feel comfortable with us then I will wait years because you are worth it even if you do not believe me now. So what do you say, love, will you allow this former prince and penniless named traitor to court your heart with all of mine?” He proposes, his lips curling up in a grin as Bilbo frowns at him thoughtfully.  
  
“I... all right. I will try.” The hobbit finally whispers, granting Kíli a faint smile that warms him to the bone as he sweeps the other into a hug.  
  
“Thank you, that is all that I can ask.” They release each other slowly and the dwarf cannot help but cup the hobbit's face in his hands, marveling at how Bilbo leans into the touch. “May I kiss you?” He asks softly and although the other tenses slightly, he nods his consent.  
  
So Kíli leans forward to press their lips together, a promise of loyalty from heart to heart. He keeps the kiss light and chaste for now, not wanting to scare Bilbo off before they even begin, and his moderation is rewarded. After a long moment, the hobbit hesitantly returns his kiss, obviously unpracticed but willing to try and Kíli's heart swells with fondness within his chest.  
  
Eventually they pull apart and the dwarf rests his forehead against Bilbo's as he smiles down at him. The hobbit blushes beneath his gaze but instead of pulling away he moves closer, tucking himself against Kíli's side.  
  
“Can I just stay here for awhile? If you don't mind?” He asks uncertainly and the dwarf responds by wrapping an arm around his shoulders and placing a soft kiss on the top of his head. Kíli knows that they still have many issues to discuss if they are going to make this work, not to mention fixing his predicament, but for the moment he is content.  
  
\---  
  
Unfortunately the dwarf's contentment does not last for he cannot help but feel that the sands of time are running out. With every day that passes, Kíli's worries about his friends and family grow and a sense of urgency beats beneath his skin. So he finds himself unable to relax into the moment even though his relationship with Bilbo progresses faster than expected.  
  
Indeed the hobbit takes only one step back for every three moved forward and the first time that he kisses Kíli's cheek where Beorn can see, the dwarf takes it as a victory. For the greatest obstacle they face is neither a lack of attraction nor inability to get along, it is Bilbo's sense of shame. While the hobbit is slowly becoming more comfortable showing his affection, his first instinct is still for secrecy even in front of one who already knows.  
  
Yet as much as the dwarf appreciates the chance to learn more about his love and help heal the scars on both their hearts, he simply cannot ignore his fears completely, no matter how hard he tries. So one night when the couple is sitting in Beorn's garden, Kíli's doubts are weighing heavily on his mind and the hobbit softly asks him what is wrong.  
  
“It's nothing important,” He answers, turning his head to smile at Bilbo faintly. “I'm just worried about the others.”  
  
“Well I'm sure they'll be all right. They're strong warriors, even without Gandalf to back them up.” The dwarf is somewhat impressed that the hobbit manages to say this with a straight face, for the battles they had encountered with their burglar rarely showed their companions in the best of lights. While the dwarves should acquit themselves well in a more usual sort of battle, Kíli still has his doubts because nothing about this quest has been normal from the start.  
  
“I'm not so certain about that; the wizard saved us more than once already and Fíli has always had me to watch his back. I just...I just worry because I don't want anyone to get hurt, not even Thorin, and what if the company reaches the mountain but fails to defeat Smaug because neither of us are there? Or what if the real traitor strikes again and they do not expect it since uncle thinks the danger's past?”  
  
“I don't have any answers for you, but we can't do anything to help from here. All we can do is have faith and try to follow them as soon as possible.” Bilbo replies as he wraps an arm around the dwarf to offer what comfort that he can and Kíli appreciates the lack of false platitudes which would aggravate his fear.  
  
The dwarf rests his head on Bilbo's shoulder and sighs. “I know that and I am thankful for the extra time to spend with you. But it's been nearly a week and I'm still practically useless so who knows how long it will take for me to get back in fighting form. If Thorin reclaims Erebor before we can clear my name then he will carve my dishonor into law and if Fíli perishes while I am absent then there will be no point in trying anymore. Still I know we can do nothing until I heal so I will attempt to put it from my mind.”  
  
That is the end of the discussion and indeed all talking for the evening as their focus turns toward other things. For all the hobbit's hesitations, he craves contact more than any partner Kíli has ever had, reveling in the fact that he can finally touch another as he wants.  
  
Bilbo told the dwarf early on how no one would get near him in the Shire, going out of their way to avoid even an accidental brush against his arm as though he were contagious. So even though he remains unsure about doing more than kissing, the hobbit is always happy to do that, and Kíli discovers that he is as fast a learner in this as in most things.  
  
While he might have chafed at the slow pace when he was younger, the dwarf is still too injured for anything very physical, and he discovers that love makes all the difference. Love makes him patient where he might have been annoyed and it is no hardship to simply curl up with the hobbit in his arms. Indeed Kíli finds that he quite enjoys the closeness, though before this he was rarely one to sit quietly when he could be doing other things.  
  
However, the next morning it is Bilbo's turn to be pensive over breakfast and after Beorn leaves, he turns to the dwarf with a serious expression on his face.  
  
“I've been thinking about what you said last night, and while **we** can't do anything until you heal, this doesn't mean that **I** can't do something sooner.” It takes Kíli a moment to realize what the hobbit is offering and when he does, the dwarf feels a wave of love and guilt wash over him.  
  
“I cannot ask that of you, Bilbo.” He says, taking the other's hand. “You've done so much for me already and you should not have to risk your life again just to try to ease my fears.”  
  
“I know you won't ask and that is why I am offering. When your heart bleeds I share your pain and your family will be mine as well. I do not wish to see the others injured any more than you and if I can help to keep them safe, how can I not try?”  
  
Kíli has to marvel again at the hobbit's selflessness and the way he cares so much about everyone around him though he wishes Bilbo would spare a thought for himself as well. He also feels guilty, for the other would have no reason to risk such danger if not for his worries and the dwarf has given him so little in return.  
  
“Please don't feel that you have to risk your life for me because I don't deserve that sacrifice.” He says, torn between his desire to protect the other and the knowledge that he has to let him make his own choices even when they hurt.  
  
“It's not a matter of obligation, Kíli.” Bilbo answers, giving him a soft smile. “I know it will be dangerous and I won't pretend I'm not afraid of what could happen. But if I don't do this and it turns out that I could have prevented a disaster, I would regret it for the rest of my life. Gandalf seems to think that I may be necessary to reclaim Erebor and I have to be with the others to convince them of your innocence. It may even improve our chances if I talk to them first so that we know who is on our side before you return.”  
  
The dwarf cannot argue with the hobbit's logic though he wishes that he could and so he just shakes his head helplessly. “I will also worry about you, you know, out on the road without me.”  
  
“I do know that but I think this is something I have to do despite the danger and I promise I have no intention of being foolish. With Beorn's help I should be able to cross the forest safely, as should you when you heal enough to follow, and it would be good for Fíli and the others to know that you still live. You were right when you said that time was not on our side and whatever hope we have of clearing your name will only decrease the longer that we wait.”  
  
Bilbo's voice is certain and the dwarf soon realizes that he will not change the other's mind no matter how he tries. Thus after several failed attempts to find another way, Kíli finally accepts that the hobbit truly wants to do this and the couple begins to plan.  
  
As Gandalf promised in his letter, Beorn is happy to provide the hobbit with supplies and transportation to the forest's edge. While the skin-changer has no maps of Mirkwood, he knows the lay of the land and what dangers to watch out for, and the wizard left warnings of his own about the safest route.  
  
Listening to them discuss the trip, Kíli feels some of his doubts easing for Bilbo leaves nothing to chance and the dwarf knows his love takes the warnings far more seriously than any of his kin. The members of their former company are not the sort who take advice to heart and part of his worry over his brother's fate is the knowledge that Thorin's proud stubbornness will cause problems at every turn.  
  
So Kíli is cautiously hopeful about the future as he stands before Beorn's hall and bids his hobbit a fond farewell. While fears still lurk on the edges of his thoughts, the dwarf must trust that his love can take care of himself and if all else fails, the hobbit has his ring. He will not do Bilbo the disservice of doubting his willingness and the other has already proven far more capable than the company had thought.  
  
Therefore, the dwarf just kisses him gently and releases him, watching the hobbit ride away until he passes out of sight. Then Kíli goes back inside, ready to support the other in the only way he can, by focusing on healing and rejoining Bilbo as soon as his recovery allows. But until that time comes, he will miss his love terribly and he will dream of the moment when their hearts are one again.

 


	4. Guilt & Dissension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst, rage and quite a bit of politics.

_This is Mahal's punishment,_ Fíli thinks, staring down at Azog the Defiler with a dull horror building in his chest. _This is my death, come for me and I deserve whatever fate the pale orc brings. We all deserve it for letting my brother die._  
  
It is the only explanation which makes sense to him, the only truth that he can see. Why else would Azog have found their company mere moments after they escaped from the Goblin King and left Kíli in his clutches? How else would his uncle's greatest enemy still live and breathe?  
  
This is retribution, retribution for their crime, and it **is** a crime no matter what Thorin may believe. Fíli knows his brother and there is... was no treachery within his heart, he could not even tell a lie. Yet somehow this truth did not matter in the face of his uncle's paranoia, Kíli's life and name still sacrificed too easily and the dwarf knows that even if they succeed, he will never consider their quest worth the cost.  
  
However, while he wishes that he could just abandon the journey and leave these false friends far behind, Fíli owes his brother a better legacy than this would bring. His grief will accept nothing less then the reclamation of their homeland in his brother's name and his rightful place in dwarvish history as a hero to their cause. So before this journey is completed, Fíli is determined to restore Kíli's honor and although he will never forgive Thorin for abandoning their youngest, his brother was never one to believe vengeance is justified.  
  
Only this knowledge made the dwarf assent to leave when his uncle threatened violence. Only this stopped him from plunging a blade deep into his uncle's gut and ending the Elder Line of Durin there. For without Kíli, Fíli is nothing, just an heir without his heart, and there is darkness stirring in his mind.  
  
So he keeps the screams at bay by thinking of his brother, the one who somehow always saw the best in everybody's lies. He keeps his guilt at bay by promising to live his life for Kíli and that he will not rest until he can speak his brother's name aloud. Yet all his vows may be meaningless for the company now seems unlikely to survive the night and in all honesty, Fíli does not have the will to care. Because if Azog slaughters Thorin and lets his beasts feed on the corpse, the dwarf's only regret will be that he was not the one who struck the bastard down.  
  
Perhaps tomorrow he will be able to acknowledge that his uncle had his reasons. Perhaps tomorrow he will be able to understand how abandoning his brother could possibly be right. But he doubts it.  
  
And tonight Fíli's heart is raw and bleeding, Kíli's loss an open wound and all he can think when he looks death in the eye is that if they perish before Thorin's judgment is known to their people, then his brother will be honored with the others who wait in Mahal's hall.  
  
So the dwarf watches impassively as his uncle charges the Defiler and he watches almost gleefully as the orc takes his foe apart. There is an endless rage burning inside Fíli, a fury which demands restitution for his younger brother's pain and his hate freezes him in place when Azog moves to claim his bloody prize. Instead it is Dwalin who stops the blade from falling, Dwalin who saves his uncle's life and Fíli does not know whether to thank him or curse him for doing what is right.  
  
Because he knows that he should move to help them against the danger which still threatens and death breeds only death, his mother taught him that. However, though the part of his heart still belonging to Thorin's loyal heir is screaming for him to charge forward into battle, this voice is drowned out by the overwhelming fury which sizzles in his veins and Fíli knows that he would burn the world if it would bring his brother back.  
  
\---  
  
However, as it turns out, Fíli will not have his blood price paid tonight. Before Azog can slaughter the pair who dare to face him, their lives are saved by the wizard's magic, eagles swooping in to turn the tide. The enormous birds drive back the orcs and carry the company to safety but the dwarf has never felt more alone than he does flying from the battlefield without Kíli at his back.  
  
So while the sharp pain of his grief eventually fades into an exhausted sleep, there is no peace for him in dreaming and when the dwarf wakes, the cold light of day only illuminates the jagged gouge within his heart. Yet the raw edge of his agony has been worn down over the hours and Fíli knows that it is time to think again instead of simply acting.  
  
Because it seems that the Valar have decided their company will live despite his darker desire and thus he has a future where there was almost none. A future and a purpose to accomplish and if he is to succeed, he will need to be more calculating than he has ever been before. While Fíli has always been the brother more skilled at scheming, the stakes are higher than the simple pranks he's used to for this time he will be playing for the highest wager of them all: honor and justice for his blood.  
  
Although his brother's spirit may not approve of cold-blooded vengeance, he thinks that Kíli will understand the need to make things right and if claiming restitution causes some collateral damage to his uncle along the way, this is a price he will gladly pay.  
  
So Fíli plans and he plots and for now he masks his rage with blankness because Thorin cannot yet know just how deep a rift between them his judgment has caused. The dwarf needs his uncle to trust him with the evidence of Kíli's crime so that he can prove it false and if all else fails, he needs his uncle to keep him as his heir. For if he cannot clear his brother's name in Thorin's lifetime, then he will do it in his own and yet he does not wish to balance Kíli's honor on the slim hope of a future crown around his brow.  
  
No, Fíli wants to remove the mark of treason from his fallen before their journey ends so that his brother will be honored as a hero before all of Erebor as they celebrate the life paid to help reclaim their home.  
  
However, if he is to win the fight against his uncle's paranoia, the dwarf will need allies and thus while the remnants of their company make the long trek to the hall of Gandalf's friend, Fíli tries to discover just where the others stand. For while Thorin is their leader in this quest as in all things, his judgment of Kíli has caused doubt where there was none before and so it is not certain on which side of coming battle his company will fall.  
  
And as it turns out, the situation is not as good as Fíli hoped but far better than he feared, though their coward of a wizard spends two days refusing to meet his eyes.  
  
But he learns that Óin, Dori and Balin are with his uncle no matter what they personally believe because none of them will challenge their king without greater cause and Thorin's old adviser is the first to confirm that a traitor to their people did exist. _Does exist damn it all, because he did **not** die with Kíli._  
  
In contrast, Ori and Bofur are wholeheartedly with Fíli for they were his brother's friends and they know as well as he does that Kíli could not have betrayed them as his uncle claims. If the dwarf is slightly bitter about their failure to defend his brother at the time, then he will not speak of it, because he knows their shame will only make them fight all the harder now. _And how can I blame them for something I am guilty of myself?_  
  
While this seems a small foundation of support from which to plead his case, his numbers could swell quickly because the rest have yet to make their choice. At least two dwarves, Dwalin and Glóin, are sharply torn in their loyalties for his brother had been like a son to them while Thorin was their friend and lord. Finally, Bombur, Bifur and Nori seem to be reserving judgment until they have more information, although the last two have always been difficult for Fíli to read.  
  
Which means that he has hope, a small helpless kernel within the depths of his despair and it is this hope that allows the dwarf to keep moving forward instead of collapsing where he stands. This hope is what allows him to keep the hatred off his face and replace it with a mask of blank civility. Civility and nothing more because it is all Fíli can do to look his uncle in the eye while his grief is still so fresh.  
  
This grief turns all food to ashes in his mouth and when they finally reach the wizard's destination, he can hardly eat a bite of the impressive feast which their host has laid out. Indeed no one other than his uncle feels much like celebrating and the meal is awkward in the extreme, nothing but stilted conversation and pained looks sent between the company as their leader waxes poetic about how he will slaughter Azog next time if he only gets the chance for a fair fight.  
  
 _Delusional as well as paranoid uncle?_   Fíli wonders in disgust and the three who sided firmly with Thorin will not meet his eyes for they know as well as he does that if Dwalin had not stepped in, the Defiler would have claimed his uncle's head.  
  
Perhaps the dwarf lord is simply trying to keep their spirits up since the last thing this quest needs is another enemy baying at their heels when they face off against the dragon. Yet even if this is the case, Thorin's words sound like little more than hubris and his nephew truly doubts the dice will fall differently when the two meet again. _And they will meet again,_ he is certain of it, for the pale orc has gotten a taste of Durin's blood along with his taste for vengeance and neither of these masters will free him without a death price paid.  
  
After all, Azog has already chased his uncle for decades, tracked him across the many mountains of Middle Earth, and a small setback like this will not stop him now. So there is nothing their company can do except run far and faster and hope that when the pale orc returns they will be able to face him from within the walls of Erebor.  
  
But thankfully even Thorin has moments of sanity and he recognizes this truth as well, allowing the company only one night to rest within Beorn's home before they travel on. One night of safety and small comfort and Fíli is surprised to find that he does not dream this evening, does not dream of blood and pain and suffering beneath the goblins' hands.  
  
One night and then their wizard says that he is leaving them to travel north and Fíli wishes this news were a surprise. Yet what is one more setback amongst the ill luck that has plagued them from the start and he has never trusted Gandalf's motives anyway. However, for some reason the other seems to trust him because the wizard takes the dwarf aside and asks him to watch for Bilbo, strangely certain that the hobbit is still alive.  
  
Fíli had rather forgotten about their burglar in the all-consuming maelstrom of his grief and while he agrees to this request, it is mostly so that Gandalf will stop looking at him with such pity in his eyes. Indeed, the hobbit remains far from his thoughts when they travel on again. For Fíli's grief is a constant companion, one which haunts his footsteps and leaves him hollow-eyed and shaking every night.  
  
Yet the days are almost worse when he begins to forget about his loss, turning to speak to his brother and finding naught but ghosts and shadows there, and each remembrance only drives the dagger deeper in his heart. But the dwarf has a goal that he must reach and so he fights through the pain, fights to function without the half which made him whole and ever so slowly he succeeds.  
  
Ever so slowly Fíli remembers how to smile, though it feels false upon his face. Ever so slowly he begins to find his feet and he considers it a victory when he manages to speak to his uncle once again.  
  
These conversations are the first step towards claiming restitution but by the time they reach the western edge of Mirkwood, he realizes that Thorin is even farther gone than he had feared, for the barest mention of a traitor sends him into furious rants about honor, loyalty and the shame of broken oaths.  
  
His uncle does not seem to realize how hypocritical it is to demand loyalty when he sentenced Kíli without the chance to defend his name and he does not seem to care that all his evidence is circumstantial. It is all rumor and speculation, coincidence and cursed luck and how could such small things have combined to tear his family apart?  
  
Yet Fíli also knows this will make his job that much harder because he cannot disprove an accusation built on smoke and mist and fear. There is nothing for him to fight against and so no easy way to change his uncle's mind, not when their true betrayer is probably still in Ered Luin.  
  
So although the dwarf does not truly wish to cause dissension, right now it is the only option that he has. All Fíli can do is try to convince the rest of their company that his uncle's accusations are baseless in order to remove the foundation of trust from which they gain their validation. All he can do is hope that when Thorin stands alone in his beliefs, he will finally see through the veil of his paranoia to the truth that lies beneath.  
  
And if he does not, then a discredited king is easily toppled and the dwarf knows what his first decree will be.  
  
Some might call this treason. Some might call it retribution. His uncle would call it betrayal and strike his name down with his brother's, but to Fíli it is justice and he will not be turned aside. If he was willing to let them all die so that Kíli would be remembered as a hero, he can hardly balk at a peaceful solution that will accomplish the same goal.  
  
Not when Thorin betrayed him first. Betrayed him by allowing him to believe that his brother had been rescued until after they escaped and the dwarf will never forgive his uncle for that deception. He should have allowed Fíli to make his own decision; he should have allowed him to die at Kíli's side.  
  
But he did not and if the dwarf must live without his brother, he will not live without the right to speak his name and Thorin has no idea what he has set in motion now. He must have no idea until the trap closes upon him and his uncle is forced to face the truth of what he's done.  
  
\---  
  
Fíli begins by talking to his allies for Dwalin taught him never to begin a battle without consolidating his position and he cannot afford to lose the few supporters which he has. While Ori and Bofur already believe that Kíli must be innocent, he reinforces their belief with certainty when he explains the small coincidences that combined to destroy Thorin's trust in his nephew and how truly ridiculous they were.  
  
For there could be any number of reasons why the Goblin King had been expecting them, from spies of his own to Azog giving him the information, and none of these required a traitor in their ranks. Truly, even if a betrayer had told the goblins about their plans, he did not need to know their exact route in order to send messengers across the whole of the Misty Mountains and warn their enemies to keep a weather eye.  
  
In fact there are so many other possibilities that Fíli finds Thorin's logic entirely baffling, particularly considering that what his uncle claims as secret information is anything but. For their destination has been known across the clans since before their journey even started and where else would they be traveling if not to Erebor? So too everyone knows that Fíli is his uncle's heir and as the only blond in the company he is rather hard to miss. This is not proof of treachery so much as proof of gossip and if that were considered treason, then half their clan would have to share his brother's fate.  
  
And even if these things were evidence of treachery they could have pointed to any member of the company and when the dwarf asks what exactly lay the blame upon his brother, Thorin has only one more piece of evidence and a mass of wild speculation.  
  
This speculation is built on the idea that everyone wants to steal his uncle's glorious position and Fíli will not bother to repeat it for the very thought of speaking those words makes him cringe in shame. He refuses to even allow his allies to consider the idea that his brother betrayed them to claim the crown because Kíli had always accepted that he could never be their king. It was not a matter of skill, duty or desire but the simple fact that the only way someone would be able to kill Fíli was if they made it through his brother first.  
  
So the last piece of his uncle's justification which the dwarf will actually acknowledge is that Kíli was not tortured where the rest of them could see. When Thorin tells his nephew this, says it with the air of one imparting a great secret, Fíli has to excuse himself from the conversation and find some privacy where he can laugh hysterically until he cries.  
  
 _Could you not hear the screaming uncle? There was no falsehood there. And if the Goblin King had chosen one of us instead, would you have cast out him the same way you now decry my brother?_  
  
Although the dwarf asks Ori and Bofur to talk to their relatives, it is this truth which brings him his first convert, the simple fact that Thorin could have turned on any one of them with just as little cause. It is this which makes Nori sit down next to Fíli and turn to him with a pledge in his eyes.  
  
“I did not know your brother well and so I cannot judge his innocence but I am with you lad because I do know that Thorin was not right to sentence him without a trial or defense. I owe my life to second chances and Kíli deserved to have the opportunity to plead his case before your uncle took his name as punishment for a crime he might not have committed. For that could have been any of us lost within the mountains and if it was Ori whose death was on our hands, I would be standing in your boots.”  
  
Fíli thanks him sincerely and the knowledge that he is gaining ground helps to fight back the despair which lingers beneath the trees. Despair and something else for the Mirkwood has an evil presence unlike any forest that he has ever seen, seeming to pulse with malice and whisper hatred on the breeze.  
  
However, while this foul darkness dampens everyone's spirits, it cannot hold a candle to the pain the dwarf brought with him and he actually welcomes the changes which it brings. For Thorin has been convinced their luck must change now that Kíli is not with them and he has made this claim loudly and publicly throughout the days. So when disaster begins to trace their steps again, Fíli takes it as an omen of his brother's innocence and it is difficult for the others to deny the truth in what he says.  
  
Thus Dwalin joins him next, as his doubts finally overcome his faith in Thorin and stretch the bonds of loyalty that held his heart. They stretch but do not break because the dwarf makes it clear that he does not wish to harm their leader or even fight him unless they must; he only wishes to save Fíli's uncle from himself.  
  
The night before he made his decision, some **thing** stole half their supplies right out of their packs and the warrior had seen it as a sign from the Valar that doom lies ahead if their leader stays upon his path. Though the way Thorin glares at Dwalin for being on watch at the time probably helped him make this choice for if their leader can look on even his oldest friend with such suspicion, then none of them are safe.  
  
None of them are safe even within a company of friends and allies and perhaps Thorin has a right to paranoia now with the doubts and accusations which are muttered in his wake. Yet with only five to his uncle's four and three still undecided, their whispers are quiet for they cannot afford dissension until they escape the shadows in the dark.  
  
For while Fíli sometimes gets caught up in his scheming and forgets that there are other dangers to be faced, he can never ignore the Mirkwood for long when creatures stalk them as they pass. There are sounds that should not exist floating on the wind and the dwarves can feel eyes on their backs, eyes that draw their nerves tight and whiten the knuckles wrapped around their weapons' hilts.  
  
The company is also starving because the supplies which had not been stolen soon run out and thus half their number decide it is a perfectly reasonable idea to leave the path when they hear laughter and see firelight flickering between the trunks.  
  
Thorin tries to stop them since he would rather starve than beg from elves but once most of the group is running forward, he can only follow or be left behind. Yet despite the source, this time his uncle's mistrust may be completely justified for they find nothing but mist and no matter how fast they travel, no one can catch the voices which taunt them farther on. Eventually exhaustion forces the dwarves to halt and as they stand there panting, they are easy prey for the beasts that descend from the trees.  
  
One sharp bite into his shoulder and then Fíli knows no more until he is waking to the sight of a stern elf above him, knife slicing the strands of web across his face. While the dwarf is no great connoisseur of elvish expressions, this one does not look pleased to see him and he is not particularly surprised when she replaces the spiders' bonds with ones of rope and twine instead of giving him his freedom.  
  
The dwarf's mind is still clouded by the creatures' venom and his body aches with every breath so he does not struggle when the elves bring him to his companions and prod them all to walk. Some of the others do grumble at the rough treatment but Fíli cannot spare any concentration if he wants to keep his feet moving through the pounding in his head.  
  
Indeed the journey passes in a blur of pain and nausea with barely a pause to rest and the dwarf does not have the energy to be impressed when their captors finally escort them into the King of Mirkwood's Hall.  
  
As it is, Fíli is too busy trying not to puke on the intricate mosaic built into the floor to appreciate the carefully cultivated majesty, which is a shame considering the grandeur of the throne room is nearly as blinding as the elf king's hair. But when their group is shoved forward to stand beneath Thranduil's supercilious stare, the dwarf is comforted to see all of his companions, even his uncle whom he no longer wishes dead. Discredited, possibly injured and repentant to be sure, but by this point the dwarf's hate has distilled to a driving purpose and he wishes no real damage to Thorin past what must be done.  
  
Although the way his uncle is antagonizing Thranduil, his health may soon be in serious jeopardy after all and as subtly as he can, Fíli knocks into their leader to cut off his angry rant. While he turns his furious glare on his nephew instead, Thorin does at least stop yelling and his face softens somewhat when he sees the state his heir is in.  
  
Yet this peace is short-lived for the elf sneers again and soon ultimatums are spoken and lines in the sand are drawn, neither side willing to give in but only one with the power to back it up. So when the cell door locks behind him, Fíli curses his uncle's stubbornness viciously before he allows the remnants of the venom to finally sweep him into dreams.  
  
\---  
  
At first the dwarf does not mind their captivity that much for while the elves are not exactly gracious hosts, he is getting enough food and rest for the first time since they left Beorn and he appreciates the chance to regain his strength.  
  
However once he has recovered his health, the enforced idleness weighs heavily on Fíli for every day which passes is a day lost to him forever. Not that the dwarf is sure exactly how much time is passing because the dungeons are locked in an eternal gloom that defies all his attempts to measure it and the guards do not appear in a pattern he can trace.  
  
But it is enough time that Fíli grows bored and restless, troubled by thoughts of all he should be doing and he worries over how their imprisonment will impact his plans. While this detour may give his uncle time to reconsider his hasty judgment, it is unfortunately more likely that Thorin will stew in his anger and injured pride until there will be no budging him from his position for all the gold in Erebor. So too his companions may decide to change their minds and Fíli does not have so many allies that he can afford a loss.  
  
Not that any of this is more than speculation at the moment since the guards do not deign to passing messages and none of his companions are near enough to shout, so for the first few weeks the dwarf simply focuses on staying sane. He exercises his body as best he can in order to keep fit, though Fíli sorely misses the twin blades which should lay across his back, and he exercises his mind by planning out his moves for when he can scheme again. The dwarf recites the myths of his people and goes over the ancient laws that Balin taught him, trying to recall the many lessons he will need as king if that's the way his fate plays out.  
  
Yet although his recall is as good as always, Fíli does not truly feel experienced enough to reign over a kingdom and he spares a moment to wonder if others would think his purpose worth the cost. For if he is forced to usurp his uncle in order to clear his brother's name, the damage to their clan will be inescapable and what could not be fractured by their exile may be shattered by his plan.  
  
Despite his current descent into paranoia and ill judgment, the dwarf cannot doubt that his uncle would rule the Lonely Mountain well, just as he has led the Sigin-tarâg to prosperity with wisdom in his heart. Fíli does not have nearly the same faith in his own abilities, untried and unpracticed as he is, and there is a very real possibility that even if the company repudiates his uncle, the rest of their clan will refuse to follow suit. But while the dwarf knows his attempt to restore his brother's honor may accomplish nothing but the destruction of his own, he cannot find it in himself to regret the chances to be taken, no matter what the final consequence.  
  
Though he takes some comfort from the fact that such action may not be necessary since the dwarf still hopes his uncle will see reason without need for revolution and so instead of dwelling on the uncertain future he tries to drown his sorrows in the past.  
  
Fíli remembers the good times, the peaceful times, when Kíli used to trail after him as a bright-eyed child who wanted to know the whys of everything he saw. They used to play along the river, swimming and laughing with their mother, though she didn't smile quite so often after their father died. He thinks of how his brother's eyes lit up when Thorin presented him with his first bow over their step-father's objections and Kíli used to take the weapon everywhere, even sleeping with it at his side.  
  
This is a bittersweet memory now for it is a reminder that their uncle had once cared for them in his own way. He used to smile just as brightly as Kíli did before he turned into this driven stranger and lost sight of what should truly matter in his eyes.  
  
But eventually the dwarf runs out of memories, replaying his favorites until even they cannot soothe the pit of grief which still makes him weep some nights and the driving need for freedom crawling beneath his skin. A need that Fíli cannot satisfy for he has scoped out his cell ten times over without discovering a way to escape and the others must be in a similar predicament because he has seen neither hide nor hair of them since they were dragged away.  
  
Without the ability to fight or run their only chance is diplomacy but it has been weeks now, possibly months, and the dwarf begins to wonder if his uncle has even tried. Has he tried to negotiate at all or is he fuming in the dungeon over the slights that Thranduil paid him, and assuming that the Valar will somehow save their quest again? But the wizard is gone and their burglar is probably dead so there will be no aid from those quarters and it strikes Fíli suddenly that this leaves their fate with him.  
  
His uncle has never been rational about elves in all the years he's known him and thus waiting for Thorin to negotiate is tantamount to signing his life away. However to negotiate with Thranduil in his uncle's place would make him as much of a traitor as Kíli in the dwarf lord's eyes and Fíli cannot afford to lose his position yet.  
  
 _Although... that is assuming uncle has to know. If I can keep this secret until we retake Erebor, he might be inclined to look on me more kindly and if not, once he is discredited it won't matter anymore. Anyway I already have almost half the company on my side and if Thorin keeps acting like this then I doubt it will take much longer to convince the rest.  Uncle's paranoia has turned him into his own worst enemy and if this is truly his father's insanity waking in his blood then by removing him from his position I am simply doing my duty as I must. I have to protect our people after all and even an inexperienced king must be better than a mad one._  
  
So the choice is made and the next time one of the guards arrives with his meal, the dwarf asks to be taken to his king, saying he has information which Thranduil will want to hear. While the elf gives no outward sign that he is listening, less than an hour later Fíli is escorted into the elf king's throne room once again.  
  
This time his mind is clear and his eyes unclouded so he takes a moment to look at all that stands before him: the intricate carvings on the walls, the glittering sunlight falling to the mosaiced floor and their captor, sitting still as stone upon his polished chair. Yet despite the disdain upon Thranduil's face, the cold dismissal and the pride which seems to seep out from his skin, Fíli is struck by a wave of pity, for there is a strange air of mourning in the other's eyes.  
  
It is hidden well behind the arrogance but his own loss resonates with the thread of pain he sees and the dwarf wonders suddenly what it must be like to outlive the world. He does not think that he could bear to watch as the light fades from all other things and for a moment he understands why some elves choose to armor their hearts against mortals and keep that sorrow from their lives.  
  
Of course then the elf king speaks and Fíli must clench his teeth to keep from snarling at the scorn within his voice.  
  
“So dwarf, you asked to speak with me and I assume this means that you have found your senses. I was starting to think your company had wits of stone to match your features and my guards would find you grown into the rock one morning instead of living flesh. But speak then if you have something to offer for my time is short and I have better things to do.”  
  
“I am here to negotiate the release of my companions so that we may continue with our quest.” Fíli tells him, swallowing his annoyance and refusing to reveal the nervousness which swells within his gut. _He holds all the cards here so the only choice is boldness, show him the steel within your veins._  
  
“And what exactly might this quest be? Your leader refused to state his purpose and now refuses to speak at all.” Thranduil asks and the dwarf's surprise makes him speak before he thinks.  
  
“Are you actually going to pretend you don't already know the answer to that question? You recognized our leader the moment he walked through that doorway and you greeted him by name. So you must know there is only one thing which could compel Thorin Oakenshield to travel through your wood.”  
  
Thankfully the elf seems more amused than angered by his bluntness and there is a faint but definite tilt to his lips as he replies. “Perhaps you are smarter than your leader then and worthy of an exchange after all. Although for that matter, who are you to deal with me?”  
  
“I am Fíli, son of Dís, sister to Thorin and my uncle's heir.” The dwarf tells him, posture straightening as he recites the litany of his kin. Dirty, plain and travel worn Fíli may be, but there is royal blood in his veins and the other must recognize it if his plan is to succeed. So he stands tall and proud beneath Thranduil's searching gaze and eventually the elf king nods.  
  
“So you are. Well then young Fíli, what do you want from me and what do you plan to give me in exchange? For you are right, I do not need information which I already possess.”  
  
 _Then why did you demand it?_ The dwarf wonders, because if the elf knows his uncle at all then he should have known how Thorin would react to a request like that. _Or perhaps that was the point of his ultimatum after all._  
  
There is an idea forming in the back of his mind and Fíli shapes his words carefully, speaking to the hints of sorrow which he can still see beneath the elf king's frosty pride. “I want you to let us go... No, that's not right. I want you to allow us the chance to escape under our own power for my uncle would never accept anything else. And I want you to help us defeat the dragon as you did not when Smaug first attacked Erebor.”  
  
“And why would I-” Thranduil is angry now, Fíli's words digging into an old and unhealed wound, but when the dwarf holds up a hand to stop his words, the sheer audacity of it cuts the elf king off. So he speaks into this short window of opportunity, needing to plead his case before the other regains his fury and throws him back in his cell.  
  
“Not an army, I am not asking you to throw your people's lives away. But give me two of your best archers to follow hidden in our wake.” The dwarf says, not pleading but respectful since antagonizing Thranduil would serve no purpose now. “Once we make our way into the mountain, we will discover the dragon's weak point and lure him out so that your elves can strike and Smaug will trouble all of us no more.”  
  
“And why would I do this?” The elf king asks again, but this time there is more curiosity than anger in his voice and Fíli knows that he has him as long as he does not falter now.  
  
“Because I offer you a fourteenth of the kingdom's treasure when the deed is done and the chance to silence the ghosts of those whom you watched die so many years ago.” _Because this imprisonment is your way of protecting my uncle from sharing in his kingdom's fate, though I do not think you would take it kindly if I mention that._  
  
At this last, Thranduil's eyes narrow and if the dwarf hadn't been expecting this reaction he would have flinched back when the other hisses like a striking snake. “You would judge me just as Thorin does, blame me for not leading my men to their deaths to save a land already lost.”  
  
“No my lord, I do not judge you for I was not there to see it. Charging into battle when already defeated might have been the more dwarvish choice to make, but this does not mean it was the right one at the time.” _And perhaps that is why I cannot forgive uncle, because he abandoned my brother just as he denounces the elves for abandoning his kin. If Kíli's death had been the only way to save us and he had asked before he'd taken, if he had honored the sacrifice as it deserved then maybe... But I think I am too much of a dwarf at heart and I would have charged forward either way._  
  
The thought of his brother makes him melancholy and his voice is soft when he continues for he wishes to acknowledge the answering sorrow which the elf king bears. They may be different races but they bleed and grieve the same and Fíli cannot hate Thranduil when he is sure the other has never stopped mourning the dwarves he failed to save, no matter what stern facade he shows the world.  
  
“However, just because you made the best decision that you could does not mean you have not regretted it and it does not stop the dead from calling in the dark. Besides there should be a great deal of gold in my grandfather's kingdom so you need not feel your aid is cheaply bought.” The elf seems confused by Fíli's words, unsure of how to treat a dwarf who sympathizes with his lot instead of hating him and Thranduil stares at him in consideration for a long time.  
  
But at last he comes to a decision, the small inclination of his head bringing joy to the dwarf's heart. “You have a deal, young Master Fíli. I will aid you as you wish if only because the world will a far more interesting place when you become the King Under the Mountain, assuming your uncle does not disown you for this stunt.”  
  
Fíli just shrugs in response to this last comment, because while this is a definite possibility, if his plans succeed Thorin will have a far more lethal punishment in mind.  
  
Now that they have reached an agreement only the details remain to be sorted and the dwarf knows he read the king correctly when Thranduil leaves those to his captain, not even bothering to negotiate for a larger share of treasure before he glides out of the room. However this elf is intelligent, quick to grasp what Fíli needs, and far more approachable than her king pretends to be, so it isn't long before they've come up with a plan.  
  
It's a surprisingly uncomplicated plan, all things considered, but he knows his companions well and a strong pin dropped in reach of Nori's cell will be enough to get them free. From there it will be simple enough to make their way to the river which runs beneath these halls, simple enough with all the patrols scheduled elsewhere and their gear in a room just off the way.  
  
The captain tells him that tomorrow night there will be fifteen barrels filled with items easily repacked waiting in the cellar to be ridden to the shores of Esgaroth and Fíli thinks that this sounds perfect- simple to explain and unpleasant enough that the others will not see through the ruse.  
  
As for Smaug, the elf promises to choose two of her most deadly fellows to follow the dwarves from Laketown and stand ready to strike the dragon from the sky. She gives Fíli a small whistle with which to contact them when he needs to pass a message on and he has to wonder at her easy confidence.  
  
Surely if it was actually this easy someone would have killed the monster years ago, but then again without the map and key no one else could sneak inside and facing Smaug within the mountain would be true suicide. _And it may still be our downfall since only the bards will ever claim this was a well-thought plan. For even if the elves keep their end of the bargain, too many things must go right to make this work and I truly hope the archers do not miss or we will all be dead before they can fire a second shot.  
  
But this is still far better than our chances were looking with neither our burglar nor wizard here to aid us and if uncle was in his right mind he would thank me for working to keep our company alive. Then again if uncle was in his right mind, we would not need the elves because we would have an archer with us and I would not be preparing to stab him in the back._  
  
\---  
  
Once the plan is set to both their likings, Fíli returns to his cell to wait for Nori's 'rescue' and right on time the next evening, someone rattles his cell door. He looks up to see three of his companions and the former thief's quick fingers soon have him outside in the corridor as they move on quickly to free the rest.  
  
Before long their entire company is sneaking toward the cellars, Fíli having told them of his 'overheard' conversation about the river down below, and all it takes is a glance through a door and an “oh look, are those our weapons” to have them all rearmed.  
  
At some point he may warn his allies about the deal he's struck, if only to reassure them that reclaiming Erebor is still within their grasp, but better to do this somewhere with privacy for at the moment a few strident objections could ruin it all. So Fíli stays silent except as necessary to keep things moving smoothly, though he has to fight the urge to hit his uncle when Thorin objects to the indignity of their escape.  
  
Apparently their leader prefers rotting in the elf king's dungeons until their chance to reclaim Erebor slips between their fingers to sneaking out like criminals in the night, but thankfully Balin sorts him out before Fíli has to show his hand. Though it gives him great pleasure to seal Thorin in a reeking barrel and shove him forward with a splash, a petty delight maybe but even such small vengeance helps to ease the ache.  
  
Just as his uncle's stubborn pride helps confirm his choice was right.  
  
So once the rest are bobbing upon the water, Fíli opens the sluice gate and hops into his own make-shift boat, pulling the lid down tight as the barrel slips into the current and picks up speed. It is not a particularly pleasant ride but the dwarf would accept far worse to finally be free of his cell and at least he does not share the weakness to motion which plagues many of his kin.  
  
Indeed when the scent of fresh air tells the dwarf that the Mirkwood is finally behind them and he calls for his companions to shove the lids off of their barrels, he is the only one who does not look green around the gills. Yet despite their sickness, the others are just as glad to be free as Fíli and eventually they all manage to drag themselves to the eastern bank, reveling in the feel of firm earth beneath their feet. The sight of Esgaroth and the Lonely Mountain rising in the distance also brightens their spirits, for they are finally in reach of their goal.  
  
Though this cheer is dampened slightly by the fact that no one is entirely sure how long they spent in Thranduil's dungeons, and Fíli forgot to ask, and if they missed their window of opportunity the company will have to wait another long year until Durin's Day returns.  
  
However, once evening falls, Balin reads the position of the moon and stars to discover that all is not yet lost, for the New Year is still three weeks away and with unspoken agreement the company marches through the night.  
  
As they travel, Fíli makes sure to spend some time with each of his conspirators to ensure they remain with him and he notices enough considering glances from those still undecided that he thinks their numbers may soon increase again. So while the dwarf still hasn't managed to drive a wedge into Thorin's steadfast trio, he is feeling rather optimistic because if he has the support of all the others, this might be enough.  
  
 _And once Erebor is ours again, assuming the elves don't screw us over, either the sight of our family's treasure will make uncle more willing to listen or I will take my chance and strike._  
  
They reach the shores of Esgaroth some time before dawn and there the dwarves finally allow themselves to stop, taking a few hours rest so that they do not arrive in Laketown looking more like beggars than like kings.  
  
Instead the company sleeps until mid-morning, hailing the gate only after they straighten their clothes and brush off the worst of the dirt and Fíli cannot understand how Thorin still manages to look majestic after months in prison with neither brush nor comb.  
  
Yet he does and perhaps it is a good thing for the humans of Laketown recognize his uncle's face, greeting him with glee as everyone celebrates the King's return. While Fíli thinks they are probably more pleased by what this means for their people than what it means for his, the dwarf has to admit that it is nice to be popular for once. He has far too many memories of sneers and dark looks received by his family when traveling through the towns of men and so this is a pleasant change, even if the Master cannot quite mask the greedy light behind his eyes.  
  
Thorin notices his avarice as well, political instincts resurfacing now that he is no longer facing elves and although he preens beneath the human's flattery, he promises nothing and warns Fíli to watch his back. Although it is somewhat surreal to listen to his uncle's suspicions of the Master while plotting a insurrection, the dwarf listens nonetheless because there is still wisdom here and he will need wisdom if he is to lead their kingdom in Thorin's place.  
  
For Fíli knows it is not fair to let their people suffer for his purpose and while he will not turn aside unless his uncle makes amends, his brother's spirit will never forgive him if he doesn't do the best he can. So the dwarf needs to be able to deal shrewdly with Laketown and with Mirkwood in order to regain their clan's prosperity and though he was trained as heir from the moment of his birth, he knows there is a wide gap between lessons and life which will be difficult to cross. Therefore Fíli watches and learns from Thorin's maneuvering, the way his uncle implies without ever making vows and the dwarf is unwillingly impressed by the diplomatic skill he shows.  
  
He is polite, understanding and listens to every argument the Master puts before him and if only Thorin would treat his own family with the same respect he gives this stranger then his nephew could let him take the throne that he has earned.  
  
 _And if I were to sit here making pointless wishes, I'd pray for Kíli to still be among the living and that Erebor had never left our family's grasp. I'd wish I still had a family, not this suspicious stranger and a brother whose name I may not speak. I'd wish that I still had a father to fight these battles for me instead of a mother who has never recovered from her grief and a step-father who sees us as burdens instead of kin._  
  
However, Fíli learned long ago that wishes will get you nothing so he puts these thoughts from his mind and focuses on the purpose which has now kept him sane for months. It is the only thing he lives for anymore and he falls asleep planning out his final moves, the arguments that will sway the last of the undecided to his cause.  
  
\---  
  
Of course none of these plans survive past the next morning for they have barely begun breakfast when Bilbo Baggins stalks furiously through the door. At first the dwarf blinks furiously, sure he must be dreaming or that he's finally snapped because, despite his promise to the wizard, he truly never thought to see their burglar again.  
  
Except that the rest of his companions are also gaping in wide-eyed shock as the hobbit marches up to Thorin and then, without warning, socks him in the jaw. Bilbo follows this with another punch to the dwarf lord's nose which lands with a satisfying crunch and when his uncle starts cursing furiously, Fíli knows that this is real.  
  
It is real and better than he had ever dreamed so he sits back and watches in awe as their burglar tears into Thorin like a soul possessed.  
  
All the things Fíli has been thinking the hobbit dares to say and it warms his heart to hear someone else defend his brother, rubbing his uncle's face in his hypocrisy as he hasn't allowed himself to do. However, as much as he loves to hear Bilbo declare Kíli innocent, he can also see the rage building behind Thorin's eyes and coming to their burglar's aid would tip Fíli's hand too soon. So he catches the hobbit's eye and frantically shakes his head, begging him to hold off until they have a chance to talk.  
  
Thankfully the other heeds his warning and cuts his rant short, though the dwarf can see Bilbo's fury still raging behind his eyes and he has to wonder why this halfling is so sure of his brother's innocence when those who've known him longer remain split in their thoughts.  
  
But the burglar's sudden silence is enough for Thorin to retreat without completely losing face, his uncle throwing out one last threat before allowing Óin and Balin to shepherd him back to his room and fix his face.  
  
As soon as the trio is out of sight, the rest of the company rushes to Bilbo's side in a cacophony of babbled questions. But the hobbit answers none of them, instead turning to Fíli and asking through clenched teeth: “Why did you stop me from speaking out for your brother? I know you must agree that he has been falsely accused.”  
  
Since his uncle is out of hearing range, the dwarf does not lie when he replies but he does speak in whispers just in case. “Of course I agree with you, but Thorin does not and arguing with him will only set him further in his ways. I have a plan to clear Kíli's name and if it is going to work then my uncle cannot become suspicious yet- he already looks at too many of us with distrust in his eyes. And unless you have proof that is unequivocal, your word alone will not help our cause.”  
  
Fíli would never admit to it but he is almost hoping the hobbit does carry evidence which would stop his plans right here. Evidence he could take to Thorin and have believed without a struggle so that he might not follow this road to its unpleasant end. Yet this hope dies when Bilbo shakes his head.  
  
“No. I have no proof but what I've seen and heard and what Kíli told me, so I will follow your lead if you know a way to give him back his life. It's not like we had an actual plan ourselves.”  
  
 _Give him back... ?_   “My brother is dead, Bilbo. I seek only to have him honored for his sacrifice as he deserves.”  
  
“No he isn't, Kíli is alive.” The hobbit declares, looking almost offended as the rest of their companions stare at him in shock. “I went back for him after all of you would not and although he was pretty badly injured, he's most certainly not dead. I left him with Beorn to recover when he sent me on ahead to join you and, oh, he gave me this to prove it.”  
  
Bilbo rummages in his pockets for a minute before pulling out a small silver object and handing it to Fíli, who feels his knees buckle as he traces the design. It is the clasp which held his brother's hair, the one he made him for his seventieth birthday, and Kíli was wearing it when the goblins dragged him off.  
  
 _My brother is alive._ How can he doubt it with the hobbit standing so sure before him and hard proof within his hands? His brother is alive and the hollow pain within his chest eases slightly, a wound that now might heal. However, Kíli is still named a traitor so even as an incandescent joy bursts within him, Fíli must recognize another truth. _This changes everything and yet nothing at all._


	5. Intrigue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything comes to a head.

Punching Thorin in the face is the most satisfying thing that Bilbo has done in weeks. Indeed the crunch of bone beneath his hand makes him smile savagely and when he sees the wide-eyed stares of his companions, all he can think is that it serves them right for leaving him behind.

“You broke my nose!” The dwarf lord shouts, one hand clutching his new injury as his cheeks flush in anger. But before he can draw another breath, Bilbo cuts him off, the words that he has held inside for weeks now spilling out.

“Well, you abandoned me! Even if I was not the burglar whom you hoped for, were we not listed as comrades on that contract which I signed? Yet the moment you could toss me aside without tarnishing your honor, you wrote me off without a second thought. I could have been injured or even dying and you did not care at all. You did not give a damn about my fate and worse, you abandoned Kíli to his as well. You disgust me, Thorin; however little you may think of me, I would never turn my back on my kin. I did not leave an innocent to die.”

The hobbit knows that he should make these claims more cautiously, for while Bilbo had always tried to remain far removed from Shire politics, even he realizes that this is not the way to sway a disbelieving mind. Yet he is just so angry, his rage festering within his heart over the long, tense weeks he spent within the Mirkwood, and now the hobbit cannot seem to stop the hate from spilling out.

Thorin reacts to this venom with a terrible anger of his own and the dwarf's reply is practically a snarl, made all the more vicious by the blood dripping thickly down his face. “My nephew is a traitor and you may not speak his name,” he growls, one hand inching toward his sword, and Bilbo does not know what might have happened next if he hadn't chanced to meet Fíli's eyes. But when he does, the dwarf shakes his head frantically, and the plea within his gaze snaps the hobbit back to his senses.

So he cuts himself off, swallowing down the remainder of his accusations, because there is more at stake here than his own overwhelming rage. In turn, once the hobbit stops shouting at him, Thorin seems to lose his steam. Perhaps the dwarf cannot fight without a worthy enemy, or perhaps he finally realizes how their argument must sound to the men standing guard outside.

Whatever the reason, the dwarf allows Óin and Balin to pull him back toward the doorway and with one more vicious glare, he leaves the room. Though he ducks back around the lintel to speak one last threat, warning his burglar to think twice before deciding to rejoin his company.

These words make Bilbo shiver, for they are a sharp reminder that Thorin could still decide to kill him and as he is only one small hobbit, he does not stand a chance against the other's sword. Certainly, considering how the dwarf treated his own flesh and blood, their contract isn't going to stop his blade from falling, and Bilbo cannot help Kíli while bleeding out upon the floor.

_Although, Thorin will probably underestimate me, and it's not as if he has given me a reason to fight fair. I managed to take out nearly half a dozen goblins without using my ring, I'm sure its magic would let me handle one persnickety dwarf. Particularly if I can convince the others to join my side. In fact, I almost hope that he attacks me, because at least then I could have the pleasure of punching him again._

Once he reaches this conclusion, the hobbit feels much better about his chances and so he turns to face the rest of the company. Bilbo sets his shoulders, preparing himself to face their interrogation, but much to his surprise, no one pointed questions come. Instead the other dwarves surround him with beaming smiles, those closest to him reaching out to pat his arm, and for a moment, he allows himself to bask in their happiness.

Only for a moment, since this pleasant feeling doesn't last for long. How can it when none of them bothered to treat him as a friend **before** he nearly died, and none of them even attempted to help Kíli? Besides, the hobbit may not be much of a warrior, but it's rather insulting that the entire company apparently thought it was impossible for him to survive the mountains on his own. Indeed they seem to think that he should have keeled over from the fright, and the third time Bofur asks how he could have possibly escaped, Bilbo has to clench his teeth to keep from screaming.

It's either that or curl up in a ball to hide from the attention since a lifetime of conditioning does not fade so fast. When he was growing up, the hobbit had learned that his best defense was to be boring and unremarkable, treating his tormentors politely no matter how much he might hate them deep inside. Yet now he has done exactly the opposite and the fear of what might happen threatens to bring him to his knees.

However, Bilbo had had a great deal of time to think while in the Mirkwood and if he had not stumbled upon any brilliant wisdom, one thing had become clear. He had realized that even if Kíli understood the hobbit's fear of being ostracized and was willing to hide their love to make him happy, the dwarf deserved someone who could stand beside him without shame. He deserved someone who loved deeper than he feared and Bilbo wanted to be that person more than he had ever wanted anything before.

So the hobbit had promised himself that he would hold his head up high, and yet this was a far easier vow to keep when no one else was there. As long as he was alone, he could believe that the others would not judge his desires, but now all his doubts are bubbling up again. Now his former companions are crowding in around him and their eyes are a piercing weight upon his skin.

But this time Bilbo is determined not to buckle, and while he cannot quite bring himself to mention his feelings for Kíli yet, he manages to stay upon his feet. It is his anger which supports him in this endeavor and the hobbit calls upon it as he asks Fíli the question at the forefront of his mind. “Why did you stop me from speaking out for your brother? I know you must agree that he has been falsely accused.”

The dwarf pauses for a long time before he responds and Bilbo feels his nerves grow tighter with every second of delay because he was counting on the other to help him change his uncle's mind.

_I cannot do this alone and Kíli was so sure that you would support him. Please don't make me tell him that he was wrong; I barely managed to keep him together when he discovered that he had been abandoned, and this, this would shatter him beyond all repair._

Yet eventually Fíli responds, whispering his answer with a wary glance toward their companions, and the dwarf's words lay all those doubts to rest. “Of course I agree with you, but Thorin does not and arguing with him will only set him further in his ways. I have a plan to clear my brother's name and if it is going to work then my uncle cannot become suspicious yet- he already looks at too many of us with distrust in his eyes. And unless you have proof that is unequivocal, your word alone will not help our cause.”

While the hobbit wishes that he did have evidence with which to prove Kíli's innocence right now, this is simply not the case, and he cannot doubt the truth of the dwarf's words. Even if some of the company will believe that his love was wronged once Bilbo has a chance to tell his story, Fíli is in the best position to predict his uncle's reaction and Thorin's decisions on this journey have shown that he has mistrust to spare.

So although he regrets the necessity, the hobbit has to shake his head, and it hurts to see the hope flicker out of the other's eyes. Yet it is not Bilbo's regret that causes Fíli's expression to twist in confusion, but rather that the burglar speaks of Kíli as though he still lives and breathes.

“My brother is dead, Bilbo. I seek only to have him honored for his sacrifice as he deserves,” the dwarf tells him, his voice hollow and despairing and the hobbit realizes that in his anger at Thorin, he failed to mention the most important thing.

“No he isn't, Kíli is alive,” Bilbo blurts out loudly and the room goes silent as all of the dwarves turn to stare at him in shock. He continues with his next breath, stuttering out an explanation before anyone can think to challenge what he claims, and if there is a hint of judgment in his words, then he still thinks it's justified. But as the hobbit speaks of his rescue mission and the injuries his love had suffered, he remembers that for this at least, the company need not trust his word alone.

_This at least I **can** prove,_ Bilbo thinks, rummaging through his pockets for the clasp that Kíli had given to him before he left. The dwarf had pulled it from his hair and placed it in the hobbit's palm, folding the other's fingers over the silver piece before dropping a kiss on top.

“Show this clasp to my brother and he will have to believe that I am still among the living. Fíli knows I would never have removed it without cause and if I were truly dead then the silver would have tarnished, for he forged it with my blood and his own hands.”

This was one of those strange statements that Kíli would sometimes make, statements assuming a reality which bore no resemblance to the world the hobbit knew. These assumptions always reminded Bilbo of just how much he had to learn about his lover's people and yet the thought filled him with anticipation. Because even though it was slightly terrifying to run into the future blindly, it was also freeing to know that the rules which had denounced him no longer applied. Besides, dwarves are known for their secrecy, and so every time Kíli granted him a glimpse into their culture, it helped to silence the hobbit's insecurities.

Eventually Bilbo's hand brushes his goal and he pulls out the clasp, its silver shining just as brightly as it had on the day when it was forged. For dwarves may not wizards to reshape the world with words alone, but his love had spoken of a quiet magic in their blood. It is the power of stone and sweat and mastery, and there is more than steel in a well-forged blade.

Indeed dwarvish metal does not lie and when the hobbit places that shining circle in Fíli's hand, he can see the joy of realization wash across his face. For a moment Bilbo is afraid that the dwarf will collapse from the relief, but he only wobbles slightly, and no one can look away from the incandescent smile on his face.

“My brother is alive,” he whispers in wonder, not seeming to realize that he has spoken, and it warms the hobbit's heart to know how much the other cares. How much all of them care, because the same dawning joy is visible on the faces of their companions and here at last Bilbo can believe that Kíli has not been forgotten after all. Whatever their faults and failures, none of these dwarves bought into Thorin's madness without reservations, and knowing that the blood of their youngest does not stain their hands seems to give them all new life.

Dwalin is the first to thank him, stepping forward to grip the hobbit arms and bless him for doing what the dwarf could not. Then it is as if a dam has broken, for the rest of the company soon follow suit. So Bilbo is hugged and held and patted on the back, and he begins to think that setting things right may be easier than he had expected. Certainly, this a far better reaction than he had thought he would receive.

_With so much support on our side, how can Thorin fail to see his nephew's innocence? And even if he remains stubborn, there is always Fíli's plan. He has obviously not been idle and if anyone can convince that stone-headed dwarf of his mistakes, surely it would be his heir? So do not lose hope my love. By the time you are healed enough to join me, I will have the gift of your forgiveness to lay at your feet. A dowry worthy of a prince of Erebor._

\---

Once the furor finally dies down, Fíli takes Bilbo aside. The young dwarf tells him about everything which occurred in his absence, and the first thing the hobbit learns is that their chances are not so rosy after all. Yet neither are things as bad as he had feared during his long trip through the Mirkwood, those dark moments when he had wondered if he was walking toward his death.

As he marched through that endless gloom, Bilbo had worried that Thorin might decide to kill him without even allowing him the chance to speak. He had worried that the dwarf might name him a traitor for daring to save his nephew's life and that everyone would watch as their leader cast him out.

For truly the hobbit had not known how the company would treat his revelation and while Kíli had been optimistic, Bilbo knew how false a friend could be. He knew it far too well and so beneath his anger, there had been a current of blinding terror that he simply could not shake.

But now this fear is gone and even the struggle which Fíli outlines cannot dampen the hobbit's relief at knowing there are allies at his back. Still Bilbo listens intently as the dwarf explains where each of their companions stands. He is not sure how much help he will be in convincing the rest to join them, but the hobbit is willing to try, and Fíli believes that they will need a strong majority to make Thorin hear their case.

For once dwarvish reasoning makes perfect sense to Bilbo since in Hobbiton the beliefs of the majority might as well be law. So he nods his agreement and the two unlikely allies begin to plan out their attack.

With Ori, Bofur, Nori and Dwalin already recognizing Fíli as their leader, those dwarves can help persuade their relatives and now that they know Kíli is alive, Bombur, Bifur and Glóin should be easier to sway. While Fíli will spearhead their efforts, he asks Bilbo to talk to them as well, hoping that his story will overcome their remaining doubts. All of this seems reasonable and the hobbit only balks when the dwarf warns him not to speak of Thorin too harshly for now.

“There's a difference between believing in my brother's innocence and defying their king, so I need to ease them into the idea slowly,” Fíli explains in a whisper that Bilbo must lean in to hear. “I'm not sure if everyone has realized just how far this road might take us and we can't afford to have them falter before Kíli's name is cleared.”

There is such conviction in the dwarf's voice and Bilbo should probably be terrified by how far the other is willing to go in order to see their purpose through. He is willing to lie to his companions, lead them into revolution, and would probably sacrifice life itself to restore honor to his kin.

Yet if the hobbit truly shares his determination, how can it scare him to see the fire which burns within his heart mirrored on Fíli's face? So Bilbo agrees to the dwarf's terms, swearing that he will control his anger until the right moment comes, and then realizes that he has no idea when this day might be.

He is actually rather embarrassed to admit to this, particularly since Fíli keeps looking at him with such admiration in his eyes, but really the other should learn to explain things properly. As much as Bilbo wants to help him, he is only a hobbit and not a particularly sneaky one at that. If he had any true talent for manipulation, he would have done much better in the Shire, and he needs to know whether he can actually accomplish what the dwarf needs him to do.

So the hobbit bites the blade and asks the dwarf about all the details that he has yet to explain: when exactly will he confront Thorin and for Aulë's sake, what are they going to do about the dragon?

Although thoughts of Kíli have kept Bilbo strong so far, his voice wavers plaintively on this last question and he hates how weak he sounds. However, the dwarf doesn't seem to mind, or to notice, for he's staring off into a future that only he can see.

“Didn't I mention those things already? Sorry, I guess I'm still a bit distracted by your news,” Fíli says, patting the hobbit's arm in reassurance. Then he looks around furtively and once he ensures that no one else is close enough to hear his words, the dwarf continues. “But I promise I do have an actual plan to convince my uncle of the truth, we're just waiting until we retake Erebor. I'm hoping that regaining our homeland will make Thorin more willing to listen to reason and if not, by then our allies should have seen the madness which clouds his mind. We must show them his weakness so that they will follow me when I stand against him for the crown.”

_Well that all makes sense, as much as the intricacies of dwarvish politics make any sense to me. But he still failed to answer the most important question,_ the hobbit thinks in exasperation before he speaks up again. “Fine, but what about the **dragon**? You know, Smaug the Terrible, furnace with wings?”

“Bofur does have quite a way with words, doesn't he?” the dwarf replies with a grin. “But don't worry about him.” He waves one hand dismissively as Bilbo looks on in surprise, wondering if his lover's brother has actually cracked beneath the stress. “I made a deal with the elves while we were imprisoned, though that's also a secret for now. All we have to do is find his weak spot and lure him out of the mountain so that Thranduil's best archers can take care of the rest. Since you are our burglar, Thorin will probably expect you to sneak inside, but I am willing to try if you do not have the heart.”

“I- is that really going to work?” Bilbo asks, voice tinged with disbelief. _Surely if killing the dragon was that easy someone would have done it years ago?_

“Actually, I have no idea,” Fíli admits and the hobbit finally sees the hint of uncertainty that lingers in his eyes. “If Smaug doesn't have a weak spot then all of us are doomed, but it's the best plan we have and so I must try, even if this turns out to be madness after all.”

“ **We** must try, because we are in this insane venture together and I will do the job for which your uncle hired me. If one of us must risk being eaten by the dragon, it might as well be me, since you have a much better chance of proving Kíli's innocence on your own than I,” Bilbo tells him, now certain that both of them must be crazy after all.

This is the only possible explanation for what he has just promised and yet perhaps embracing their madness is the way to succeed. _Perhaps it truly is that easy and no one else has managed it simply because no one else was desperate enough to try. But I snuck through a mountain of goblins to rescue Kíli before I knew I loved him, how can I not face a dragon for the chance to keep him at my side?_

Even as the hobbit has this revelation, something in his words must strike a chord in Fíli, for the other's expression turns softly wondering. “You truly are willing to die for our cause. You're willing to die in order to clear my brother's name, just as you rescued him without thought for your own life.”

“What of it? He's my friend. My dearest friend.” _And my heart, but I am not ready to tell you that._ Indeed the thought of the dwarf figuring out his secret makes all of Bilbo's instincts scream. The two of them have only just come to an understanding and despite all of Kíli's reassurances, there is a part of the hobbit's mind which simply cannot believe that Fíli will take the information well. Even if the dwarf does accept such relations as natural, which still seems improbable, surely he would want someone better for his younger brother than one old hobbit with no honor to his name? So Bilbo tries to keep his face bland and unassuming, hoping against hope that the other will let this question be.

However, he is not that lucky and with every word that Fíli speaks, the hobbit's stomach churns. “Perhaps he is your friend, but Kíli would not have trusted his clasp to simply anyone. Nor would he have given a friend the pendant that I can see outlined beneath your shirt. So perhaps I should be asking whether you are playing with my brother's heart?”

“What? Of course not! How could you even think that?” Bilbo nearly yells, his offense at the question overriding his fear. One hand clutches his chest, grasping at the pendant which lays under his tunic and he forces himself to lower his voice again when Dwalin looks their way. “I know the pain of rejection far too well to ever want to inflict it on another and I count myself lucky that Kíli even noticed me. I would never do anything to make him regret his choice.”

As soon as these words leave his mouth, the hobbit blanches, for he truly did not mean to reveal so much about his heart. Yet to his surprise, Fíli does not seem angry, instead clapping Bilbo on the shoulder as a smile spreads across his face.

“You have no idea how pleased I am to hear that,” the dwarf tells him cheerfully. “Kíli deserves to have the best and it is a relief to know that my brother will not have to face the world alone, even if our quest should fail miserably.”

“Wait, you think I'm the best?” Bilbo asks incredulously, his mouth dropping open in shock. “Why would you possibly believe that... I mean, me?”

“Of course you,” the dwarf replies, looking at the hobbit as though he is the crazy one. “Do you see anyone else around here who risked their life to save my brother from certain death? No gold or jewels could hope to surpass your courtship and if we succeed, they will sing tales about your love for generations: the hobbit who braved a mountain full of goblins to save his prince's life.”

“Oh... You know it really wasn't that romantic. I was scared out of my mind for most of it and I only ever killed six of them. Five actually since your brother took down the last,” Bilbo mutters, unable to really comprehend the thought of his courage in a song.

However, Fíli simply laughs at his confusion and promises gleefully that his lack of heroics will not be a problem at all. “That's what the bards are for. They'll make it seem like you took on a score of the creatures empty-handed and swept Kíli off his feet along the way. In fact, if we do succeed then I'll commission the first song myself just to see my brother squirm.”

The hobbit shakes his head in consternation, for although he can no longer deny that their relationship will be accepted, Kíli had certainly never mentioned a response like this. _Ballads about deviants like us? My relatives would die...... maybe I should send a singer out Lobelia's way?_

However, eventually the dwarf manages to get himself under control and he stops laughing long enough to issue some threats as the older brother in him comes out. “Romantic songs aside, if you do break my brother's heart, I swear that you will suffer for weeks before I finally let you die. That pendant is a promise as much as any ceremony and you should be ready to face the consequences before you take it off.”

Fíli says these words in the same tone that one might comment on the weather and the hobbit thinks that this might actually be the scariest thing that he has ever heard. People should not sound so polite when they're threatening to skin you and yet Bilbo cannot fault the sentiment.

Kíli deserves to have someone fight for him like that, and if the hobbit ever is stupid enough to throw his love away, then he will submit to Fíli's vengeance without complaint. So he nods his acceptance even as he wonders whether this means that he should tell the others after all.

However, before the hobbit can speak the question, the door to Thorin's room slams open and the dwarf lord finally stalks back into the hall. His very presence ends all thought of further conversation and when he roars for his company, everyone gathers around quickly to hear what he has to say. Even Bilbo, who stands on the fringes to listen to his enemy.

Though he has to resist the urge to punch him again when Thorin's first action is to denounce the hobbit's claims as lies or hallucination, despite the clasp which still shines in Fíli's hands. Indeed their leader doesn't even seem to notice the mumbled outrage that spreads through his companions when he declares his heir's creation faulty, for even those who will not fight for Kíli's innocence would never so disparage his older brother's skill.

_Something is terribly wrong with that dwarf_ , Bilbo thinks, watching the seeds of rebellion grow stronger beneath Thorin's oblivious gaze. The king of whom his love had spoken would never have been so blind to the mood of his people and the hobbit wonders what could have changed him so. Of course, then the dwarf pauses in his rant to sneer at him once more and what little sympathy Bilbo may have been feeling quickly disappears.

So he tunes out, restraining his more violent impulses by focusing on the faint bandage across Thorin's swollen nose and in his head, he is the one who scoffs. _Not quite so majestic now, are you Mr. Oakenshield?_ Most of the others are listening closely, but Bilbo is not the only one who thinks the dwarf needs mocking as he discovers when he meets Fíli's sidelong glance. The young dwarf rolls his eyes and mouths, 'a bit long-winded, isn't he?' and his annoyance is quickly replaced by laughter.

_You know, I think we could be good friends in time,_ the hobbit muses, fighting the urge to giggle madly. _If nothing else, at least one of my in-laws likes me, which is more than my relatives have ever done. And it's nice to see him a bit more cheerful than he was when I arrived._

Indeed Bilbo rather believes that life is looking up and certainly the future is filled with brighter possibilities than it has ever been before. Bright possibilities with just a few small obstacles standing in their way and when Thorin sends everyone off to finish resupplying, the hobbit tags along after Bombur, hoping to catch him on his own. He has to start his campaign somewhere after all and perhaps their shared love of cooking will help to grease the wheels.

\---

As it turns out, Bilbo's hopes are realized and he bonds with Bombur over food, recipes, and the joy of finally being able to purchase fresh supplies. The trip through the Mirkwood had been sadly lacking in proper meals and although the dwarf is reticent at first, he seems pleased to have the company.

So they wander the markets looking for the best prices and while the hobbit watches for a way to bring the other to his cause, all he discovers is that the chef has quite an eye for bargains. However, not even Bombur can surpass a hobbit in full haggle and when he has finished, the dwarf's admiration finally gives him the opening he needs. For the other asks if Bilbo will show him his technique and although the hobbit does not know it, the openness with which he shares his mastery must be met with equal trust. Thus Bombur has begun treating him as a dear friend by the time the pair returns to the company's borrowed residence and this gives him the courage to offer up his tale.

Even Fíli has yet to hear Bilbo's story in all its gory detail, for in truth he much preferred to forget the terror that gripped him in its claws. However, it is worth the pain of remembering to see the chef begin to lose his faith in Thorin's judgment with every bitter word.

As the hobbit speaks, some of the other dwarves trickle in to listen and he meets their eyes one by one, sparing them none of the fear or anger which his memories incite. The only thing he does not share is the love which drove him, because, while they might accept it, Bilbo does not think that they have earned this knowledge yet.

Despite this omission, his companions are near to weeping by the time his voice trails off and at the shame in Bombur's eyes, the hobbit knows his point is made. Indeed all of the dwarves who listened to his tale have the same look upon their faces because they have finally realized just how completely their courage has been outmatched. Their courage and their honor and now it is their duty to help him set things right.

So as the crowd slowly disperses, each dwarf pauses on their way out to offer their support to Bilbo and the hobbit is rather proud of what his words have wrought. For not only did he touch those who were already Kíli's allies, but Bombur and Bifur speak of new beliefs as well. While at the time he could not understand a word the latter said, Fíli assures him later that both of the cousins are now firmly on their side.

Unfortunately, none of Thorin's closest allies were there to have their hearts swayed by the hobbit's story and Glóin remains strangely reluctant to pledge his axe to their cause. Although everything the dwarf has said makes Bilbo think that he does not believe in Thorin's judgment, he still refuses to stand against his lord and the hobbit does not understand this at all. However, Fíli tells him not to pressure Glóin too hard for his is the kind of loyalty which must be given freely and as long as the other does not actively work against them, that will be enough for now.

In this the burglar must bend to the dwarf's judgment and so he tries to turn his mind to other things, drowning his worries in preparation. There is much to do before they start the last stretch of their journey, and as the days pass, Bilbo realizes that he will be sorry when they go. Staying in this village has been a lovely break from the danger which haunted their steps throughout the beginning of their travels and he will miss the luxury of sleeping through the night without fear.

This is not to say there is no danger, but the perils of Laketown are rather more political in nature and so do not strike when the sun is down. It is only during the days when one must worry and if Thorin suddenly seems to have lost his diplomatic touch completely, Fíli and Balin manage to keep his harsh words from igniting any feuds.

This allows the company to enjoy their surroundings and Bilbo takes advantage of the freedom while he can, talking Bard the Bowman into showing him the sights. While everyone he meets has an annoying habit of assuming him a child, the hobbit soon manages to convince them otherwise. Indeed, Bard seems quite impressed by his ability to hold his liquor and the ale in Laketown is quite good indeed, even if it would taste better with Kíli by his side.

Yet no matter how he tries, Bilbo cannot forget that Durin's Day is fast approaching and they must find the secret door in order to lure the dragon out. So it is also a relief when the company finally marches out of Laketown, waving farewell to the men who gathered at the gate to wish them luck.

Of course, then the dwarves crest the eastern ridge and the hobbit sees the destruction that Smaug's fire wrought. The men of Laketown have named these plains the Desolation and their description is apt, for there is no life around the mountain's base. No life, no sound, not even insects buzzing and the Bilbo is struck by a sudden terror.

_I am supposed to face the creature which did this?! Alone and with naught but my ring to aid me, I am supposed to find a way to bring the dragon down? It's impossible. Even if I manage to stay hidden, what weakness could this monster have? I know I promised to aid you, Fíli, but you knew not what you asked._

His thoughts whirl together in a nightmare of dread and panic, only the force of habit keeping his feet moving across the ashy ground. They walk in silence, no one attempting to speak through the clouds of dust, and Bilbo is thankful for this small mercy because the hobbit feels as if he is being torn in two.

Part of his mind wants to run as far and as fast as his feet can carry him and leave all of this behind. Run until he makes it back to the Shire and never come out of his hobbit hole again. His hobbit hole where his life may not be pleasant but it is safe. Safe and comfortable and easy and yet the thought of living his next fifty years in the same way he lived his last makes panic swell within his chest.

This panic represents the new Bilbo, the one who found courage where he least expected it and wonders why he is so worried about what might go wrong. So he might be eaten by a dragon, so what? At least if Smaug ate him it would be quick and then his pain would be over, no long slow decline into despair and loneliness. Surely this is actually the better fate, for the hobbit does not think that he could bear to be that lonely again, not when he knows now what it is to be loved.

Not only loved, but treated with friendship and respect and how could he live with himself if he abandoned Fíli to his fate? How could he live with himself if he allowed his fear to ruin his one chance at happiness and how could Kíli continue to love him if the hobbit ran?

_He would turn away from me in disgust and he would be right to do so, for I would not deserve him then._ It is this last thought which makes the difference, for Bilbo wants so dearly to be worthy and he uses this motivation to shove his terror down deep. The fear is not gone but at least it is buried enough for him to function and that will have to suffice for now. This is probably not the most healthy way to conquer his emotions, but the hobbit cannot afford to fall apart until their quest is done; if he survives, he will panic then.

So by the time the company makes camp at the base of Erebor, Bilbo has himself under control and although he still twitches every time the mountain rumbles, he neither screams nor flees. And when Fíli wakes him with a hand on his shoulder, the hobbit follows him into the darkness without complaint. There is just enough moonlight to walk without tripping and the dwarf leads him into a cluster of boulders before he stops.

“It's time to find out if Thranduil has kept his end of the bargain,” Fíli whispers, pulling a small white object from his pocket. It is a whistle and when he raises it to his lips, a shrill note echoes through the air. Bilbo winces for the sound is high and piercing, covering his ears when the dwarf blows it a second time.

“Twice for good measure,” he mutters, settling down to wait. “Hopefully that will be enough for their fancy elvish ears since sound carries in the night and we do not want to wake our friends.”

The wait is long enough that Bilbo starts to wonder if anyone is coming and from the tense set to the Fíli's jaw, he is having similar thoughts. _Maybe this is simply an elaborate trap and Thranduil always meant to leave us hanging in payment for Thorin's disrespect. But if the elf king wanted my friends dead, wouldn't it have been easier to just kill them in the Mirkwood? He could have blamed it on the spiders easily enough if they truly are as terrible as Bofur described. Doing it this way doesn't make any sense, but then why are they taking so damn long?_

Eventually Bilbo cannot stand it anymore and he has to ask: “What will we do if the elves never come? We don't have any archers of our own and we cannot kill a dragon face to face.”

In the darkness, the hobbit cannot see Fíli's expression, but the dwarf's voice is determined when he answers and his surety helps to ease the hobbit's fear. “No matter what happens we will continue with our plan. Perhaps Bard the Bowman would like to be known as the Dragonslayer and if not, we will search out another way. While we must find the secret passage tomorrow, once it is open, there is no hurry and I will learn archery myself if that is what it takes.”

“While that might be amusing to watch, it will not be necessary.” A soft voice whispers in the night and the hobbit nearly jumps out of his skin when two shadows appear on the boulders by his head. They seem little more than ghosts at first, moving with the silence of wind and dust, but as the shapes draw closer, Bilbo can see that they are elves.

“You are late,” Fíli growls to their new allies, before continuing in clear surprise. “Captain Tauriel? It's you?”

“I said I would be sending my best; I never said that I was not one of them,” the female elf replies with a soft laugh. “But I apologize for the delay; we were not expecting you to call so soon.”

“Do not worry about it. You are here now and that is what matters,” the dwarf says, ever the diplomat, before pulling the hobbit forward. “May I introduce Bilbo Baggins; he only recently returned to our company and so was not with us when we met before.”

“You're not a dwarf! And hardly more than a stripling!” The captain shoots her companion a quelling glance at this exclamation and Bilbo adds a glare of his own, frowning at the elf in annoyance.

“If you must know, I am a hobbit of the Shire,” _And I am very tired of being thought of as a child._ He informs them, the cold tone of his voice making it clear what he thinks of such assumptions. “I assure you, I am quite old enough to be here and if you're going to be rude, you could at least do me the courtesy of introducing yourself first.”

For a moment the two elves stare at him with wide eyes, _probably not used to being scolded quite like that_ , and the captain recovers her composure first. She nudges her companion sharply and he mumbles an apology, the hobbit's ire softening in spite of himself at the chastened look upon his face.

This elf is obviously young by the measure of his people and hobbits tend to confuse the other races anyway. So Bilbo grants his forgiveness and the group moves on to business for their absence has already run long. However, it take only a few short moments to bring the elves up to speed, Fíli explaining that they should be able to enter the mountain the next evening, and once the burglar has discovered Smaug's vulnerability, the dwarf will whistle again.

Neither of the elves have any objections to this plan and Tauriel promises that they will remain closer this time. Though she does ask the hobbit to wait until daylight before sneaking inside, so that if the dragon chooses to take wing too soon, she and her companion will still have the best chance to succeed.

Bilbo is quite happy to make this promise and so the conspirators bid each other farewell. Then the burglar follows Fíli back to their camp, curling up in his cloak by the remnants of the fire while the dwarf wakes Bifur to stand watch. No one seems to have noticed their absence and the hobbit falls asleep to the rumble of Bombur's snoring, trying not to worry about what the morning brings.

\---

“Everyone up! Move your lazy hides.” He wakes to the sound of Thorin yelling, the dwarf driven to impatience by the nearness of their goal. “Time is wasting and we must find that door.”

Although Bilbo would have dearly loved to stay in bed, duty calls, and so he drags himself upright with a groan. _A few weeks of actual beds and I've gone soft,_ he thinks, trying to stretch out his stiff muscles. Though in his defense, their midnight meeting did not allow the hobbit long to sleep and no one else seems any happier to be awake so early in the day. Indeed there is quite a bit of grumbling among the dwarves as they pack up their camp and even Thorin's staunchest allies wonder why exactly they are rising with the dawn.

Only their leader is dressed and ready, his eyes shining with a fevered glow as he looks toward his kingdom and in less time than Bilbo would have thought possible, the company is moving again. They hike quickly around the base of the mountain to reach the fabled gates of Erebor and for a moment, the hobbit's exhaustion is forgotten in his awe.

He grew up reading tales of the splendor of the great dwarven kingdoms but he had not expected the legends to be true, and even ruined it takes his breath away. For standing on either side of the blocked entrance are two statues, warriors gazing out upon the road and Bilbo never dreamed that living hands could shape such monoliths. They are truly giants, rising up against the mountain almost as far as he can see and for the first time, he realizes just what it means to be a dwarven king. This is not the simple duties of the Shire Thain or even Elrond's ageless wisdom, this is power in its purest form, and for a moment, the hobbit wonders how he could hope to alter such a ruler's fate.

But then Thorin turns to face his company, the mad light in his eyes burning ever stronger and Bilbo realizes that this does not change what must be done. In truth, it only makes their quest more important for while Fíli is young, he understands his duty, and the thought of what Thorin would accomplish with this kingdom makes the hobbit tremble in his bones.

_It will be war and never-ending. War with the elves and with men and anyone else whom he thinks may challenge him._ The future spreads before him in an instant, bloody and desolate as the Fell Winter but on such a scale as to shake the foundations of their world. _It will be death._ He is certain of it and everything in his being cries out that he cannot let this come to pass. For this is bigger than Kíli, and even their companions, and if Thorin nearly started three feuds while in Laketown, what hope is there for the long years of his life?

Bilbo shakes himself sharply, chasing away the dark premonition and the shadows in his thoughts. What does he know of kingdoms and politics? He is just a hobbit who wants to clear his lover's name. Yet he cannot entirely throw off the sense of foreboding and when he thinks of his vision, the ring in his pocket burns.

“Are you all right? You're falling behind.” A hand touches his arm and Bilbo looks up to see Fíli staring at him in concern. The others have already started climbing, Thorin leading them up the statues to reach the upper paths, and the hobbit forces a reassuring smile onto his face.

“I am fine, sorry. It's just a bit overwhelming,” he says, a wave of his hand attempting to encompass the sheer scale of what stands before them, and the dwarf nods his head.

“It is, isn't it? Mother would tells us stories of the wealth of Erebor, but I always thought she must be exaggerating. Ered Luin is little more than a troll cave compared to this.” Perhaps Fíli too has now realized the weight of their responsibility, for his eyes are serious and he squares his shoulders as though preparing for a fight. However, there is no doubt on his face, only determination and the hobbit finds himself comforted. So he follows Fíli onward and turns his focus to the uneven stone beneath his feet.

Bilbo is out of breath by the time the company reaches level ground again, but Thorin allows them only a moment to rest before he splits them up to search the mountainside. While it is only mid-morning, there is still a great deal of ground to cover before the sun begins to set and no one wants to miss their chance.

So the hobbit joins the hunt without complaint, his gaze fixed on the cliff face as he searches for any kind of sign. While the door will be invisible when closed, perhaps sharp eyes will be able to find some other evidence of its existence: a faded rune or the trace of footsteps in the rock.

Hours pass and while the company discovers a few possibilities, none of the places seem quite right. So when they pause for a brief meal, Thorin pores over the map again, looking desperately for any clue they missed. However, there are none and all the dwarf can say for certain is that the door must face west, it is made of grey stone, and perhaps a thrush will fly nearby.

Personally, Bilbo thinks this last hint may be nothing more than a poetic turn of phrase, because how would the hand which drew those runes have known where any bird would fly? Even if a thrush nested nearby when the map was written, a generation has passed since Smaug took Erebor.

However, you can never be too careful and so the hobbit keeps one ear open as the shadows lengthen. Then, to his surprise, he hears a soft knocking to his right. Bilbo follows the sound around the corner and stops dead, for a small bird is tapping its beak against a smooth slab of grey stone. While he does not recognize its coloring, this coincidence is too great to dismiss and he calls for Thorin as loudly as he dares. The hobbit would run to fetch his companions himself, but he is certain the sun would set the instant that he left to search them out. So he calls again and a wave of relief washes over him when he hears footsteps, Ori and Nori answering his cry.

The two dwarves agree that this must be the place described by the moon runes and Nori sends his brother to bring the others here. Then he settles down next to wait with Bilbo, murmuring that at least if the door appears before the rest of their company arrives, there will be two of them to remember what they've seen.

Yet this is not necessary because Thorin rounds the corner just as the sun begins to dip below the mountains, and its last rays are a blaze across the sky. This stream of liquid gold shines upon the Lonely Mountain and Bilbo gasps as a soft depression in the rock appears to grow deeper beneath its glow. The dwarf lord wastes no time in gaping, quickly pulling the key from his tunic and inserting it into the lock. Not a moment too soon for in the next instant, the sun disappears and the company mountainside stands in shadowed dusk once more.

Now that the light has vanished, the keyhole is nearly invisible again and the hobbit knows that without the map to guide them, he would never be able to find this spot again. However, when Thorin reaches out to turn the key, the lock clicks softly beneath his hands and the entire slab of rock slides smoothly to the side. Where it once stood, there is a tunnel leading deep into the mountain.

It is darker than night within that passage, dark as a tomb, and as a wave of hot air washes over him, Bilbo has to suppress the horrifying thought that it is breathing. He shudders violently, the foul scent reminding him of the tunnels through which he had dragged Kíli so many weeks before. Even if he had not promised Tauriel to wait until morning, the hobbit would balk at entering this passage in the dark, and he digs in his heels when Thorin attempts to shove him inside.

“You are our burglar, are you not? Go steal back my treasure,” the dwarf demands, his eyes gleaming almost golden in the night, and he doesn't even flinch when the mountain rumbles beneath their feet.

“I am and I will, but not yet,” Bilbo replies firmly. “Even burglars need their rest and if I am going to steal from a dragon, I am going to do it after dinner and a full night's sleep. A few more hours will make no difference now.” Although Thorin clearly wishes to argue, the rest of the company sees the wisdom in the hobbit's words and when even Balin agrees that waiting until morning is probably a good idea, the dwarf lord must give in.

So they walk back to one of the larger ledges and start to set up camp again, Bombur pulling out his cooking pot to prepare their meal. While Bilbo would usually have helped him, tonight he excuses himself instead, walking some distance off to think. The reprieve that he has gained will not last and tomorrow he must face his trial. Tomorrow he must attempt to sneak past a dragon and even with his ring, this will be difficult for a drake's senses are sharper than those of any goblin.

Yet there is no other choice and the hobbit tugs Kíli's pendant out from under his tunic to remind himself of what he's fighting for. Even if Thorin wasn't clearly unfit to rule, the dwarf lord must be made to regret the pain he caused his nephews; Kíli deserves to stand with honor at his brother's side.

_Valar, but I miss him,_ Bilbo thinks, calling up an image of the young dwarf in his mind. He focuses on each detail in turn until it almost feels as though his love is standing there before him: the crooked tilt to his smile, the warmth in his dark eyes, the way he laughs with utter abandon when truly amused. But it is not enough to remember the kisses and Kíli's strong embrace; the hobbit wants to feel him here.

He wants his love to hold him and promise that everything will work out in the end, even if the words are a lie. And as Bilbo recalls the heat which always filled him at the archer's touch, he wishes suddenly that he had not been such a coward in the time they'd had. At least then, if he died tomorrow, he would still have the memory of their joining to warm him in his grave.

So the hobbit resolves that if he survives his encounters with Smaug and sees his love again, he will no longer allow his fear to hold him back. He will do everything of which he's always dreamed, and while the thought still terrifies him, it is strangely exhilarating as well.

“Dinner is ready Master Bag- What is that?!” Bilbo is startled from his daydreams by Dori's exclamation and he turns to see the dwarf staring intently at the pendant in his hand.

_Damn it! Why him? Why not one of our allies?_   He wonders, trying to come up with a believable explanation other than the truth. However, as Bilbo takes a breath to speak, an enormous smile spreads across Dori's face and the hobbit chokes on his words.

“That's Kíli's mark, isn't it? Oh, this is wonderful,” the dwarf says, clapping his hands. “No wonder you came back to clear his name, you're in love with the lad. And risking your life to rescue his... that's so romantic.”

Dori doesn't seem interested in a response, ignoring the hobbit's shock to sigh dreamily and mutter about courtship to himself. Until he thinks of something that makes his eyes narrow and he turns to Bilbo with a growl. “You're in love and Thorin is ruining everything, isn't he? Well, we won't stand for that. Whatever you and Fíli are planning, you have my support because what kind of ruler would keep true love apart for a little thing like treason?”

The longer the dwarf speaks, the more the hobbit thinks he must be dreaming and yet when he pinches himself, Bilbo does not wake. Which means this insanity is real, but at least this time the crazy appears to be working in his favor, so he nods and smiles while Dori chatters on. If a secret love of romance is what sways the other to his cause, then the hobbit will take it and be thankful, even if he does not understand why dwarves always seem to react this way.

_Maybe I should just tell Thorin and be done with it?_   He muses, wondering if this would sway their leader when all other logic fails. But as he remembers his bloody vision and the fell light in the dwarf's eyes, Bilbo shivers and vows not to take that chance.

Besides, before he can worry about his romance, he must deal with the dragon and so he follows Dori back to the camp to eat. Bombur has outdone himself and the hobbit takes second helpings since this may be the last meal he ever sees. For the next few hours, Bilbo manages to bury all thoughts of the future in stew and pointless conversation but no matter how much he wishes otherwise, eventually the hobbit must lay down to sleep.

\---

Much to his surprise, he does not dream, although perhaps this is not a blessing when it is morning which he fears. Indeed, it seems as though Bilbo has barely closed his eyes before the sun rises and he finds himself staring down the secret tunnel once again. In the light of day, the passage is only slightly more welcoming, for while the sun chases away the darkness, the scent of death remains. Still, Bilbo gave his word and Fíli promises to wait for him at the entrance, so he finds a spark of courage and steps within the stone.

Once he has taken this first step, the second comes easier, and soon the hobbit can no longer see the surface when he looks back whence he came. When the sunlight fades, he slides his ring upon his finger and continues forward, tracing his path with its strange light. The journey seems to take forever, though Bilbo knows that it is only terror distorting his sense of time. In truth, it has probably been less than an hour by the time he reaches another door.

Here the stench and heat is nearly overpowering, a murky red light seeping through the cracks, and it takes all of the hobbit's courage to continue now. Thankfully, despite its long centuries of disuse, this door also opens smoothly and he slides through without a sound.

And then he nearly ruins it by gasping at the sight which meets his eyes.

Bilbo is standing on one edge of an enormous hall, larger than any room that he has ever seen and filled to bursting with a sea of treasure. Coins, jewels, gems and platters are heaped together without rhyme or reason and he knows that with even a fraction of this wealth, the entirety of Hobbiton would never have to work again.

_But I am not here for precious metals,_ the hobbit reminds himself firmly, though he does slip a few coins and a small golden cup into his pocket as proof of what he's found. Then he walks forward, each step an agony as the piles of gold threaten to slide beneath his feet. Whatever pathways used to cross this chamber are now lost beneath the wild spill of treasure and Bilbo is so focused on staying upright that he nearly walks into the monster whom he seeks.

For the hobbit crests a mound of gems and then stops short. There is a vast red-golden dragon spread out below him, the drake rumbling like thunder in his dreams. Smaug is half buried in gold and silver, wisps of smoke trailing from his enormous jaws and his sinewy wings folded tight across his back.

Bilbo stumbles back at the sight, before freezing in fear as a mass of coins slides down the pile and tumbles into the dragon’s cheek. Smaug grumbles, fire flaring in his nostrils and the hobbit does not dare to breathe as the creature shifts. One large eye cracks open, golden and slitted like a snake, and for one horrifying moment, Bilbo is sure that the wyrm can see him after all. But then he snorts sleepily, rolling onto his side and resettling his wings, and the rumble of his snoring begins again.

His nerves shaking from the tension, the hobbit relaxes, bringing up one hand to rub his face. _That was far too close,_ he thinks as he begins moving slowly away from the dragon's head, for Bilbo can clearly see that Smaug has no weakness there.

In truth, there does not appear to be a weak point anywhere, every inch of the drake covered in scales and spines and claws. _Perhaps his eyes, but he needs only to blink in order to block the strike and an arrow to his wings would infuriate him long before it brings him down._ However, while each new failure is discouraging, Bilbo refuses to give up. Fíli and Kíli are counting on him and his father always swore that every wyrm had a weak spot to make up for their arrogance.

So he keeps moving, eyes roaming intently over Smaug's gigantic form and when the hobbit walks around the dragons's tail, he thinks he finally sees it. At first it is nothing more than a pale, white flash in the corner of his eye, but as Bilbo looks closer, a bare patch among the scales comes into focus. Soft and unprotected and right above the monster's heart and the hobbit knows that he has discovered the answer which they seek. He breathes an enormous sigh of relief and then begins the slow trek back to the hidden door. Fíli will want to know what he has found.

As he steps carefully across the treasure, one wary eye locked upon the dragon, Bilbo wonders if he should just give Tauriel his ring and send her in here to kill Smaug in his sleep. Yet while this would probably be safer, something in him balks at the idea and surely the dwarves would object to a fiery corpse within their treasure hall?

So the hobbit will just have to stick to the original plan and when he reaches the secret passage, he looks back into the chamber, trying to guess in which direction the dragon will choose to leave. _South-west,_ Bilbo decides eventually, noticing the way that the stones are singed and broken around this entrance, as though Smaug has forced his body through those halls before. _I will tell the elves to wait there and hope that luck is on our side._

Then he ducks through the door and pulls it shut behind him, before heading back to the surface. The return trip feels much shorter and the hobbit pauses only to remove his ring before stepping out into the light. As promised, his friend is waiting there and the dwarf turns toward Bilbo with a hopeful look upon his face.

“I found it!” He crows smugly in answer to Fíli unspoken question, throwing himself into the other's arms. Although his friend seems somewhat startled by this greeting, once he registers the hobbit's words, the dwarf returns the hug with equal glee and the two of them dance around in joy.

“You are truly a master burglar to steal the secret of Smaug's weakness beneath his very nose,” Fíli tells him when they finally separate. “And as soon as I contact our elvish friends, we will bring this monster down.”

The dwarf pulls the whistle from his pocket and blows it again, the sound no less painful this second time. But at least the wait is shorter, for only a few minutes pass before the two elves are slipping down the cliff to join them. When they arrive, Bilbo wastes no time in explaining what he found within the dragon's lair, describing the wyrm's weak point and the route he thinks that Smaug will take. The archers listen silently, heads cocked to the side in concentration and only after he has finished do they speak.

“If all is as you say, then we will be able to make this shot easily enough once the wyrm has spread his wings. However, you would do well to move your people off the mountainside in case the worst should happen and our efforts fail.”

“We could bring everyone inside the passage,” the hobbit offers, for in this barren landscape that is the only place where their company could hide. “After the dragon leaves there will be plenty of space and we might be able to set up an ambush there to attack when he returns.”

“Let us hope it doesn't come to that,” Fíli says, a sentiment with which Bilbo firmly agrees. “But your plan is sound and I can convince the others of its merits easily enough. Most of them will be overjoyed to know that we have a plan at all considering that my uncle appears to be expecting you to steal his treasure out, piece by shining piece.”

Since this would take lifetimes even without the ever present danger of the dragon, the hobbit doesn't know what Thorin could possibly be thinking. Although, the fact that the dwarf is no longer thinking clearly is the heart of this whole mess.

So they promise to give the elves an hour or so to move into position and watch them disappear into the rocks before the pair starts back toward camp. Which is when they round the corner and see Glóin sitting there. At the sight, Bilbo's heart begins to pound with tension, for judging by the grave expression on the dwarf's face, he heard every detail of their plans.

“So you're working with the elves,” he says and Fíli flinches slightly, before squaring his shoulders and meeting the warrior's eyes.

“Yes, I am. Someone had to find a way for this mad quest to succeed since my uncle seems to be resting our hopes on good luck and a prayer. If I had left things up to him we would still be trapped inside the Mirkwood, our dreams rotting within the elf lord's care.” His voice is firm and Bilbo feels a surge of pride in his friend, for this is the bearing of a king.

“All right then,” Glóin gives a measured nod. “While I sympathized with your pain, I could not support you if your only goal was vengeance. But you truly have the best interests of our people in your heart. I will stand with you when you confront your uncle, and if need be, I will fight for you to claim his crown.”

The two dwarves clasp hands as the hobbit watches them in shock, wondering if he will ever understand the motivations of his lover's race. They are so stubborn and unyielding and yet with the right spark, one can change their deepest beliefs faster than an arrow flies. However, while he does not understand it, Bilbo admires the willingness to change. And, in truth, he much prefers it to the loyalty of hobbits, who will pretend to agree with you on the surface and then stab you in the back.

“Our burglar has returned,” Fíli calls out when they finally near the camp and the two dwarves slip away as the rest of their company surrounds the hobbit. Bilbo shoots his friend a glare for leaving him to face the swarm alone, but the other shrugs without apology. 'I need a distraction,' he mouths over Dwalin's shoulder and so the hobbit sighs and plasters an excited grin across his face.

While he keeps all eyes riveted on him with his descriptions of Smaug's ferocious size and the endless mounds of treasure, Fíli and Glóin move through the crowd, drawing off their allies one by one. _They must be explaining the plan,_ Bilbo thinks, for when each dwarf returns they have a new determination in their eyes.

The hobbit manages to draw out the story until Fíli has finished and then he hands the golden cup to Thorin with a flourish. For a moment, the treasure seems to mollify the dwarf lord's displeasure, but when no more is forthcoming, he scowls down at Bilbo in distaste.

“This is it? The wizard promised me a master burglar, Mister Baggins, not some petty thief.”

“Well, excuse me, but in case you weren't listening, there's currently a dragon sitting on your treasure and I rather think that we should deal with that monster first,” the hobbit replies as his annoyance gets the better of him, placing his hands on his hips and matching the dwarf glare for glare. “I will return to the mountain but not to steal your gold back one piece at a time- I'm going to steal out Smaug himself instead.”

“What do you mean by that?” Thorin asks, a hint of interest joining the hungry gleam within his eyes.

Bilbo falters briefly because this isn't how Fíli was going to tell his uncle of their plan, but he's already gone this far and so he decides to risk it. The dwarf is not the type to back down from a challenge, and if the hobbit phrases it right, Thorin shouldn't notice the parts he doesn't say.

“I told you, I'm going to steal the dragon. I will drive him into such a frenzy that he abandons Erebor and then your gold will be free for you to claim. In fact, I will steal the secret of his weakness as well, so that if the wyrm ever returns, you will be able to strike him down. Surely a great and powerful warrior such as yourself can manage that?”

The mocking question enrages the dwarf and as Bilbo hoped, he is far too angry to wonder about the hobbit's sudden burst of arrogance. In fact, Thorin's reaction could not have been more perfect and soon the entire company is standing before the secret passage, waiting for their burglar to sneak inside.

As he takes a breath in preparation, Fíli pats him on the shoulder and wishes him luck, promising that whatever happens, he will ensure that Kíli survives. The hobbit thanks him sincerely, appreciating the reassurance, and then he steps forward to face the dragon once again. _This is the end, for better or for worse._

\---

When Bilbo reaches the end of the tunnel and slips back into the treasure hall, at first he thinks that nothing has changed. The room still glows with the same fiery hue, tinged scarlet even in the strange light of his ring, and the rumble of the dragon's breaths echoes in his bones. So the burglar creeps forward, not wanting to wake Smaug before he is ready, and then he rounds a pile of shields and freezes beneath one slitted eye.

The drake growls, his nostrils flaring as he scents the air, and ring or no, the hobbit is certain that the beast will find him soon. Find him and devour him before he can complete his mission and he doesn't know how he will salvage this. But then Bilbo has an idea, reaching into his pocket and grabbing one of the coins which he had stolen before throwing it across the room. The gold piece lands with a clatter and the wyrm is on it in an instant, slithering over the treasure with the swiftness of a falcon's strike.

While Smaug is distracted, the hobbit hurries toward the western entrance, looking for a new vantage point from which to taunt the dragon without discovery. _I should have learned to throw my voice like uncle Isengrim,_ he thinks, bemoaning the lack as he hurries toward a pillar across the way. _But who knew I'd ever need that skill?_   Bilbo slides behind the stone just as Smaug roars in fury, the echoing sound filling every inch of space within the hall.

“Well thief! I smell you and I hear your breath. Come help yourself again, there is plenty and to spare!” The dragon hisses, tail lashing as he stalks across his hoarded gold. “I have not smelled your kind before, but no one can steal from me and live.”

The hobbit shivers at the malice in that voice and wonders how Smaug could have noticed the tiny cup he stole. But although his knees are shaking, Bilbo clutches his lover's pendant tightly and finds the strength to speak.

“Are you sure about that, dragon? For this is not the first time I have walked within your mountain and it will not be the last.”

The dragon roars again, charging toward the hobbit's voice, but by the time he reaches the pillar, Bilbo has already snuck away. _I'm actually having fun,_ he realizes, fighting the urge to giggle hysterically as he taunts Smaug repeatedly and leads him in circles around the hall. However, just as he begins to feel confident, the hobbit trips and tumbles, sliding down a mound of treasure to land in a hollow near the center of the room.

Something hard is digging into his back and the fall knocked his breath away, but the burglar does not dare to move. He does not dare to breathe as the dragon slithers near him, one clawed hand landing an inch from his face. _Do not notice me,_ Bilbo prays and the Valar must hear him, for Smaug continues past him without pause. When the wyrm has passed, the hobbit reaches an arm beneath him and pulls out a shining gemstone, one which seems to glow with its own eldritch light.

Then he pushes himself to his feet, shoving the gem into his pocket as an afterthought. While he has done well so far, it is not enough for the dragon to be angry. Smaug needs a reason to leave the Lonely Mountain and the burglar is about to give him that.

“You would have better luck, wyrm, if I were actually a thief. But this is not my purpose here. I am not here to steal your treasure, I am here to take your life.” At these words, the drake bellows with laughter, the scornful rumble of his amusement nearly knocking Bilbo back to his knees.

“You intend to kill me?” The dragon hisses, eyes widening in disbelief. “I am Smaug the Terrible and my armor is tenfold shields. My teeth are swords, my claws spears, each beat of my wings is a hurricane, and my breath is death! Who are you to challenge me?"

“I am the lucky number and he who walks unseen,” the hobbit answers, putting a mocking sing-song into the words. “I am the King-maker and the King-breaker, a friend to princes and a healer of the weak. I am the Ring-winner and the Luck-bearer and an army of my allies now stands before your door.”

“An army?! You are a fool, riddler, for all the power that you claim,” the wyrm snorts dismissively. “I took this mountain over the corpses of two kingdoms and the best they had to offer was no more than dust beneath my feet. Yet now you taunt me with an army, as though such ants could bring me down.”

“Perhaps you are right, dragon, or perhaps this victory you boast of was won through no more than ambush and deceit. Did you find honor in slaughtering women and children or were you simply too much of a coward to face warriors on the field?”

“You dare to call me a coward?! **Me?!** I will face your army and **devour it**!” Smaug rises to his full height, an endless mass of ruby scales, and breathes out a wall of flame across the floor. The fire hurtles toward Bilbo, who turns and sprints away in panic, diving behind a wall just as heat licks against his heels. He lays there panting and watches the dragon stalk out of the treasure hall, stone cracking in protest as he forces his body through.

However, while he would love to never move again, the hobbit cannot silence his curiosity and so he drags himself upright once again. Then he chases after the wyrm, following his trail of debris and devastation until Bilbo finds himself upon the western battlements.

Smaug is there, preparing to rain devastation down upon the plain. His claws dig deep into the stone as he rears back on his hind legs, his spread wings like fiery banners in the light, and then he leaps. The drake soars into the air, the rush of wind knocking Bilbo to the stone and for one terrible instant, he thinks the elves have failed them.

But then there is a shriek of agony such as the hobbit has never heard and Smaug falters in the sky. His wings beat once, twice, thrice more before the dragon plummets, trailing flame and blood behind him through the air. Bilbo watches unblinking until the great wyrm lands at the foot of the mountain and with one last cry, his corpse begins to burn. The fire chars him from the inside out until there is nothing left but a hollow shell of scales and bones and even though this is what he wanted, the hobbit has to turn away.

For all his cruelty, there was something glorious about the dragon, something wild and beautiful, and now that he is gone, Bilbo wonders if the world is lesser for it. Safer perhaps, but if he has learned anything upon this journey, it is that risk has its rewards.

_And he would have eaten you and all of your friends without a second thought,_ the hobbit reminds himself, brushing aside that odd twinge of sympathy. Then he removes his ring and walks back the way he came, entering the treasure hall to find his companions staring at the mounds of gold in awe.

“Bilbo! You're alive!” Fíli cries out and runs over, throwing an arm across the hobbit's shoulders. “When I didn't see you, I worried that Smaug had killed you after all.”

“No, he did not manage that,” Bilbo replies, patting the other on the back. “In fact, the great and terrible dragon is now nothing more than bones and ashes upon the wind”

“Truly?” the young dwarf asks, his smile somehow growing brighter and when the hobbit nods, it is as though an enormous weight has been lifted from his back. “Thank the Valar, even if Thranduil's share of treasure may be larger than I thought. And now that the wyrm is dead, I suppose it is time to deal with my uncle.”

Fíli sighs heavily, obviously dreading the confrontation, but he knows what he must do. So the dwarf signals to his allies that it is time and then stands forth to speak.

“Our quest is now over and Erebor belongs to the line of Durin once again. However, while I offer you my congratulations, there are matters which we must discuss,” he announces to his uncle, voice carrying across the room, and yet Thorin hardly reacts at all.

“Not now, Fíli,” the dwarf tells his nephew, waving one hand at him dismissively, before kneeling down to search amongst the treasure at his feet. “I must find the Arkenstone before the beast returns.”

“The Arkens- Damn it, Thorin, Smaug is dead, so you will listen to what I have to say,” Fíli growls, irritation lacing in his words as he tries once more to draw his uncle's eye. “The fate of our kingdom is more important than any bit of treasure in this hall.”

“I said not now!” Thorin roars, making the rest of the company step back in surprise “There could be an army of goblins on our doorstep and it would not matter until the Arkenstone rests in my hands.”

The faces of those listening twist in disgust and watching them, Bilbo thinks that the dwarf lord just lost any chance he had of retaining his crown. Indeed, the longer the argument continues without Thorin even agreeing to hear his nephew's case, the darker Fíli's expression grows and the hobbit begins to wonder if this will end in bloodshed after all. As he watches, he sticks his hand in his pocket to fiddle with his ring, and when his fingers touch something larger, Bilbo remembers the gemstone that he found.

When he removes it from his coat and its silver glow shines forth, a sudden silence descends on the chamber as the entire company turns to him and stares. A silence which is broken by Thorin's gleeful shout.

“You found it!” he cries, rushing over to the hobbit and grabbing the gemstone from his hands.

“I- what?” Bilbo asks, mouth hanging open in shock at the joyful expression on the dwarf lord's face.

“You found the Heart of the Mountain,” Thorin says, as if that were an explanation, and cradles the jewel gently to his chest. “This is the greatest treasure of my people, so if it is in my power, I will grant you anything you ask.”

The hobbit looks to his companions for advice, but most of them seem as flabbergasted as he feels and even Fíli just shrugs when he meets Bilbo's eyes. So he turns back to the dwarf and asks for the one thing that is his heart's desire.

“All right then. I would like you to give Kíli back his name and honor, for he has never been a traitor to you or to your kin.”

However, the instant that the hobbit speaks his nephew's name, Thorin's face shifts from happiness to fury and only Dwalin's quick hands stop his lunge. “You dare!” the dwarf roars, fighting like a rabid animal against the other's hold. “You would side with that betrayer over me! You are all in this together, plotting to steal my kingdom and my gold and you will feel my vengeance.”

The hobbit does not respond for he is mesmerized by the crazed look on Thorin's face and he only comes back to himself when Fíli blocks his view.

“Uncle, stop this madness,” the young dwarf pleads. “Bilbo is no more a traitor than my brother and it is only your own fear which makes you think otherwise. Let us help you so that you may return to your senses and be an honorable leader once again.”

“Never! I am king, nephew, and I do not need you to tell me what is right. If you do not strike the halfling down this instant, then I will banish you to meet your brother's fate. I will banish all who try to take my throne from me.”

“Then you leave me no choice,” Fíli replies. “While I had hoped you would see reason once the dragon was no more, your madness and paranoia are rooted too deep. Therefore, Thorin Oakenshield, I declare you unfit to rule the Sigin-tarâg and I offer myself as King Under the Mountain in your stead. Who will ally their hammers with my claim?”

For a moment no one moves as Thorin gives an inarticulate roar of hatred and yanks against Dwalin's hands once more. But then Nori steps forward to stand at the young dwarf's side and the rest of the company follows one by one until only Óin and Balin now remain.

“Do you stand with my uncle, then?” Fíli asks the two old dwarves when they show no sign of moving and yet both of them slowly shake their heads.

“No. I stand with neither,” Óin declares, the white-haired dwarf nodding his agreement. “I have watched you and Bilbo in your plotting and I believe my brother when he says that you will be a worthy king. But while I will not stop you, I cannot support you in the attempt. I am a healer before everything, and so I will not choose a side.”

“Thank you for your honesty,” the young dwarf says and he truly seems to mean it. “I admire your loyalty even as I must choose a greater duty to fulfill and I hope that you will find me worthy of your service someday. Now, uncle, will you submit to our judgment and give me your allegiance? I truly do not wish to cast you aside.”

“ **NEVER!** ” Thorin roars again, elbowing Dwalin in the side and slipping from his hold. “I will see you burn for this,” he swears before fleeing into one of the doorways, Arkenstone still clutched tight in his grasp.

By the time his companions come to their senses and follow him, the dwarf has locked himself inside one of the Erebor's old storerooms. So they plead and threaten and try to break down the door, but none of it is any use and eventually Fíli orders them to stop. At this point night has fallen, so their new king leaves Glóin standing guard and tells the others to get some sleep; they will need their rest in the days to come.

Certainly Bilbo is about to fall asleep on his feet and once the company has scattered, Fíli takes him by the arm. “Come on, my dear hobbit,” the dwarf says, leading him to one of the kingdom's many abandoned rooms before bidding him goodnight and if the bed is dusty, the hobbit is far too tired to care.

He sleeps deeply and wakes early, wandering into the kitchen in search of a bite to eat. However, despite the unpleasant hour, Fíli is already there, poring over a map with Nori and Dwalin. He greets Bilbo with a smile and invites him over to help them with their plans. They are organizing the work that must be completed, beginning with the need to clear the gate, followed by the creation of a record of all the damage that was done.

All told the hobbit finds it rather overwhelming since just one of these tasks could keep them busy for years. But Fíli hopes that once the gate is passable, their allies will be more willing to help. “If nothing else, Dáin should jump at the chance to be owed a favor and Thranduil will probably want to count his gold himself.”

So after a quick breakfast, they begin and although it takes all morning, the gates of Erebor soon stand open once again. _Not that there's anything left to shut,_ Bilbo reflects, for what was once an impregnable fortress is rather less so now.

However, this is a matter for another day, because when last rock is finally cleared, the hobbit's keen eyes pick out riders on the plain. Two small parties, one of elves and one of men, and Fíli quickly grabs a crown off the treasure pile before walking out to greet them cordially.

“King Thranduil and the Master of Laketown, I was not expecting you quite so soon. Welcome to the Lonely Mountain,” the dwarf begins and before long the three rulers are ensconced in bargaining. While Bilbo does tune out slightly during the more flowery diplomatic phrases, he pays enough attention to notice when the politeness turns to threats. It seems that while Thranduil is perfectly happy to claim his share of treasure and return to the Mirkwood, the men of Laketown are not so easily appeased. In fact, the Master wants an equal portion in repayment for the pain that Smaug caused his people and the hobbit can almost hear Fíli's teeth begin to grind.

When the dwarf refuses him, and rightly so, the man counters with threat of invasion and while the elf king looks rather disgusted with this turn, he does not speak out.

_Probably wants to see what Fíli's made of,_ Bilbo thinks, noticing the way that Thranduil's watching him. _And with three nations so close, I can understand why he doesn't wish to alienate one of their kings. It's like when the Proudfoots and the Sackvilles were feuding over their petunias and refused to sell their produce to anyone on the other side. But at least those two families were roughly equal, while we have only fourteen and one of them quite mad. That's no fair way to bargain._

Indeed Fíli hardly has a leg to stand on and the hobbit begin to worry that all their work will come to naught when the dwarf loses his temper and tries to cut the human down. But then Bilbo sees Bard the Bowman standing at his Master's back and a solution comes to him as he remembers their conversations.

“Of course we're not going to give you a share of our treasure simply for showing up when all the work is done,” the burglar cuts in as his king draws breath for what will probably be a splendid insult. “But as we're all friends here, I'm sure that we can work something out.”

'Friends?' Fíli whispers incredulously as everyone turns to stare at the hobbit in surprise. 'Speak for yourself.'

But Bilbo just winks and meets the Master's gaze with a sugary sweet smile. “After all, what could be a greater show of goodwill than to help restore the city of Dale to its former glory, since those men are the ones who first felt the dragon's fury. Of course, considering the amount of time and resources this restoration will require, you couldn't possibly ask for any more from us without seeming quite ungrateful. Could you?”

Now is the man's turn to splutter and warmth fills the hobbit when he catches both Fíli and Thranduil hiding their amusement from the corner of his eye. The Master opens his mouth, probably to curse him violently judging by the color of his face, but before he can, Bard speaks up.

“You would truly do this?” He asks, voice soft with wonder, and as the other man's jaw snaps shut, Bilbo has to resist the urge to cackle. _I've got you now,_ he crows, knowing that he has just offered Bard his greatest dream and blocked the Master's greed in one fell swoop. While rebuilding Dale will cost the dwarves in time and labor, the price will be less than an equal share of the gold within the mountain, and it will gain them far more in trade and diplomacy. Besides, Bilbo likes the bowman and why should only the dwarves of Erebor get to reclaim their home?

Fíli is quick to second the hobbit's offer and with this deal made, the Master of Laketown almost seems to shrink as Bard steps forward to fill his place. Watching the much more friendly discussion which follows, the hobbit decides that his work is done for now and heads back into the mountain to deal with other things. If his king needs him again, he won't be hard to find, but until then there is plenty to be done and Bombur mentioned lunch some time ago.

\---

Over the next few days, Bilbo's life falls into a comfortable routine. In the mornings, he helps various members of his company with their record-keeping, updating their maps for damage or listing the supplies they need. If Fíli requires him, the hobbit joins the new king in his meetings, but now that the Master has been dealt with, those times are few and far between.

Indeed, the dwarf and Bard get along like bread and butter and their greatest disagreements so far have been when they simply dream too big. Neither likes to recognize the limitations of their resources, but Thranduil's pessimistic streak keeps their heads out of the clouds.

The elf has actually been surprisingly helpful, trading the dwarves supplies in exchange for assistance with the transport of his treasure and offering the use of his messenger birds until those of Erebor return. Fíli uses the latter to contact Dáin and his mother, telling them of what transpired and asking for whatever aid they can provide. He is counting on his kin in the Iron Hills to make the Lonely Mountain habitable before the winter since the dwarves of Ered Luin are months away and even with a veritable army of elves and men camped upon his doorstep, there is too much to be done.

In truth, most of the elves are busy loading Thranduil's gold into wagons and the men are clearing moss and debris from the ruins of Dale. The city is in surprisingly good shape considering how many years have passed, but Smaug's onslaught destroyed little of the stonework and so the bones of its beauty yet remain. While it is unlikely that Dale will be restored before the first snow falls, Bard doesn't seem to care and Bilbo is often struck by the feeling of hope that now permeates the air.

Where this land had once been covered with a pall of death and despair, there is a spark of life emerging. The hobbit can see it in the smiles of the men who arrive each morning to aid his companions and in the songs of those elves working to turn the desolation of the plain back into shrubs and flowers.

The only sour note in this music is Thorin, for the dwarf still refuses to leave his room and mutters dark imprecations against any who come near. Even Fíli gets no reaction beyond cursing and eventually he decides to simply leave his uncle be. Perhaps time will help him come to his senses and if not, surely Dís will be able to make her brother see the light.

So life goes on, until one morning while Bilbo is helping Bombur catalog the kitchen stores, Nori calls out: “Rider at the gate. Rider at the g- Is that a bear?!”

A wild joy fills him when he hears this cry and the hobbit sprints for the entrance, hoping that his instincts are right. _Kíli, Kíli, Kíli,_ thrums in his mind, the word beating to the rhythm of his heart and driving him on faster. Then Bilbo slides into the gate hall and sees his dwarf, hugging Fíli tightly, and he nearly falls to his knees.

“Kíli!” The cry rips out of his throat almost involuntarily and when his love meets his gaze with a brilliant smile, everyone else disappears. They collide together moments later and when the dwarf's arms surround him, Bilbo has come home.

“Valar, but I've missed you,” Kíli mutters into his hair and the hobbit squeezes him tight, before raising his head to kiss the other on the lips. The action causes a wave of whispering in those looking on, but it is worth the comments to see the startled delight on his dwarf's face. And when they break apart, Bilbo sneaks a glance around them, some of his tension disappearing at the smiles he sees there. Indeed, Fíli is practically beaming and while a few of the men do look disgruntled, none of them dares to speak beneath Beorn's watchful gaze.

However, most of his attention is still riveted on his lover as the hobbit looks Kíli over for injuries and marks each change he sees. Truthfully, the dwarf looks leagues better, even if he is still on the skinny side, and the knot of worry in Bilbo's heart finally begins to ease.

So he wraps his arm around Kíli's waist and turns to greet the skin-changer, pleased to see his friend again after all this time. Beorn seems pleased to see him as well, reaching down to shake the hobbit's hand, but then his smile disappears.

“I wish I were only here to return your dwarf to you, little one, but I am afraid that there is much darker news to tell. We came to warn you that there is an army marching on you from the Misty Mountains, an army of orcs and goblins,” the skin-changer tells them and when Bilbo turns to Kíli with wide eyes, the dwarf gives a rough nod.

“It is true, though I wish it were not so. Their numbers are uncountable and their leader is the pale orc whom I thought was dead,” he confirms and in the next instant, Fíli is shouting for a messenger. Then the dwarf leads them into the tent which has become Thranduil's command post and when the other lords have gathered, he asks his brother to repeat his words. So Beorn and Kíli tell their story, painting a picture of an army such as has not been witnessed in an age and when they finish, their listeners are mute with horror.

Except the Master of Laketown, who simply looks at them and sneers. “And why should we believe what these scruffy fellows have to say? They probably stumbled over a half dozen goblins in a drunken stupor and miscounted in their terror.”

The skin-changer growls at the insult but before he can speak, Fíli words slices through the tent. “One of those scruffy fellows is owed a debt by the House of Durin and the other is my brother, so you would do well to treat them with respect.”

His voice is quiet, but icy as death, and the Master goes white beneath his glare. The man shrinks back into his seat and the dwarf turns that cold gaze on the rest of his fellow kings. “If no one else wishes to impugn my family's honor, perhaps we can turn to planning our defense. Dáin's most recent message stated that he and his people should arrive tomorrow but they will not be prepared for battle and even with their number, we are severely outmatched.”

From there the discussion turns to military strategy and deployment, all of which might as well be gibberish for all the sense it makes. Bilbo catches enough to know that while the goblins are not due to arrive for a few days, no one is very optimistic about their chances, and his arm tightens around Kíli in distress.

The thought of losing his dwarf in battle is unthinkable, and yet the hobbit knows that he cannot ask him not to fight. All he can do is offer his own services as a healer and hope that none of his friends receive injuries too great for him to mend. At least Kíli will be with the archers, but Fíli and the rest of the company will stand in the thick of the fighting and it is far too easy to imagine a swarm of goblins hacking the dwarves down.

_It will be my vision come to life, a field of blood and slaughter,_ Bilbo thinks, a sick feeling in his stomach and even after the meeting breaks up, he cannot shake the horror.

“Are you all right?” Kíli asks him, brown eyes filled with worry and the hobbit wishes that he could offer some reassurance. But there is none to give. So it is a melancholy pair who finds themselves a corner and curls up together, Bilbo telling his dwarf of everything that happened while he was gone. The story takes hours and by the time he finishes, Kíli is watching him both with admiration and with fear at how casually he risked himself.

“I know I've told you this before, but you are amazing. Though I wish you would not put so little value on your life. Magic ring or no, you are not expendable to me,” the dwarf whispers and at these words, the hobbit simply has to kiss him again. There is nothing sweeter than seeing the love in Kíli's eyes and with all his heart, he wishes this moment would never have to end.

Bilbo presses closer, the archer's lips soft and warm, and heat builds beneath his skin until he feels a familiar knot of panic growing in his chest. Before he can stop himself, the hobbit jerks back and while Kíli releases him immediately, the dwarf cannot hide the flash of disappointment in his eyes. Disappointment which is mirrored by Bilbo's own. _This is ridiculous. I faced down a dragon, an enraged dwarf lord and the Master of Laketown, I am not going to let a little thing like joining frighten me._

So the hobbit stands, taking Kíli's hand and leading him toward the stairs. “Come on, I have something to show you,” he tells the dwarf, pausing to point out the various chambers as they pass by, before coming to a halt at the entrance to his room.

“Welcome to my humble abode. It's not much but at least it isn't covered in dust anymore,” Bilbo says, pushing open the door and ushering Kíli inside with a cheerful wave of his arm.

“So this is nice and all, but what exactly are we doing here?” the dwarf asks in bemusement, wandering deeper into the room and as he nears the bed, the hobbit pounces. He lands heavily in his lover's arms and the two of them topple over onto the blankets, Bilbo grinning down triumphantly when he ends up on top.

“At the moment, I'm kissing you,” the hobbit tells his dwarf and then proceeds to do just that. At first their kisses are chaste, but even the light touch of Kíli's hands upon his waist starts a slow burn beneath his skin. While Bilbo's nerves have not disappeared, this time he forces himself to press closer instead of running and to his delight, his panic cannot stand against the lust.

_What was I so afraid of?_   He wonders, reveling in the pleasure that sings through his body and his heart. So when Kíli forgets his restraint and traces the edge of Bilbo's lips, the hobbit opens for him eagerly, wrapping one arm around his neck to pull him down. All he can feel is the heat of his lover's body, the dwarf's tongue claiming the inside of his mouth and oh he **wants.** He wants everything, rocking down into Kíli before he can better of it and both of them groan hungrily when their swelling lengths collide.

The dwarf's choked gasp makes Bilbo feel invincible and he moves again, grinding his ass into that burning line of heat until Kíli is shaking beneath his hands. Then it is his turn to moan as his lover flips them and the dwarf's weight presses him down into the bed. He is solid and strong and the hobbit cannot stand it, reaching out to try and find his mouth again. However, while Kíli's eyes are dark with desire, the dwarf refuses to be moved.

“Are you sure about this? If we go much farther, I may not have the self-control to stop,” he says, gaze filled with concern and the hobbit cannot stop his impatient groan.

“I haven't seen you in a month, both of us could be dead in a few days, and you're asking if I'm sure? I thought I was supposed to be the nervous virgin?” Bilbo asks, an exasperated edge to his voice as he tries to wriggle closer.

“Well, when you put it like that, how can I refuse?” Kíli replies, a grin spreading slowly across his face. “I just wanted to ensure that we are not doing something you'll regret.”

“While I appreciate the thought, I promise you, my only regret will be that we didn't do this sooner. Now stop talking and get on with it,” the hobbit demands, grinding up against his lover's thigh. At this the dwarf's hesitation finally disappears and he kisses Bilbo firmly as deft fingers begin to make short work of their clothes.

Faster than he can blink, there is nothing but skin beneath Bilbo's hands and he traces the smooth line of Kíli's shoulders with delight. He has never been this close to anyone and the hobbit thinks that he could spends hours mapping his lover's form.

_Though this is nice too,_ he decides as the dwarf kisses down his neck, his tongue leaving a trail of heat in it's wake. Kíli slides lower, pausing to lick one of Bilbo's nipples, and he smirks at the hobbit's startled moan. He wraps his lips around the small nub and sucks until his lover is panting and begging beneath him, then moves on to lathe the other one as well. Finally the dwarf does something with his tongue that makes Bilbo nearly scream, his nails digging hard into Kíli's shoulders. It is too much, pleasure whiting out his mind and then a firm tugs on his balls brings him back down to earth.

“Not yet darling,” his lover whispers in response to the hobbit's frustrated groan and then continues his way down the other's body. Kíli moves slowly, mapping every inch of Bilbo's skin which he can reach and nipping lightly at the spots that make him shiver. Then he is nuzzling into his lover's groin and the heat of his breath is a caress along the hobbit's aching cock .

Kíli pauses there, looking up at the other with teasing eyes and just when Bilbo is sure that he cannot take it anymore, the dwarf swallows his length down. This time he does scream, back arching off the bed and he can feel himself coming apart as he thrusts into that wet heat.

“I can't... I... fuck... Kíli!” the hobbit gasps out, not sure whether he's pleading for relief or for more. With every slow slide of his lover's mouth, pleasure coils higher within him and then the dwarf slides one slick finger deep inside. It burns slightly but that hint of pain is lost beneath the desire and Bilbo barely has time to wonder what the other is doing before Kíli presses something within him that makes his body sing.

“Kíli!” the hobbit shouts, tossing his head as pleasure washes over him and when his lover hums around his cock, he cannot hold on anymore. Bilbo comes, seed spilling into the dwarf's mouth as sparks shoot behind his eyes and then he slumps down on the bed.

“That was... oh my lord,” the hobbit mutters dazedly when he can make his mouth form words again. He feels blissed out, every nerve humming contentedly, and he could die happy right now.

“So you enjoyed yourself then?” Kíli asks smugly, sliding back up his body for another kiss.

“You blew my mind,” Bilbo assures him, fascinated by the taste of himself on his lover's tongue. By this point, he is near to falling asleep and he might have drifted off if the dwarf hadn't shifted, brushing his length against the hobbit's leg. “You didn't... Did I do something wrong?” He asks, distress replacing his contentment as he realizes that Kíli is still hard.

“Bilbo, no, you were wonderful,” his lover tells him earnestly. “It's just... it's your first time so you don't need to worry about it. I like giving you pleasure and I'll take care of myself while you rest.”

“Oh that is just... No you will not,” the hobbit replies firmly. “You are not going to be sacrificing yourself on my account, because I want to make you happy too. I want us to do everything, so come over here and show me how two males can join.”

The old Bilbo would have died before saying something so forward, but at the moment he far too exasperated to care, and it's hard to be embarrassed when Kíli is looking at him like that. He was too busy having his mind blown to notice it before, but now it is impossible to miss the desire and adoration glowing in his dwarf's eyes. And he wants to keep that feeling so he means every word he says, because if this is going to work then both of them will have to be able to ask for what they want.

Still Kíli hesitates and when the hobbit raises an eyebrow in question, he mumbles. “I want to do everything with you as well, I promise. But I don't want to hurt you and you're so tight, I'm afraid I might not be able to help it. Even with stretching, the first time is always somewhat painful and you can't afford to be limping when the battle comes.”

“Well then we'll work our way up to that, assuming we survive, and you can show me something else for now,” Bilbo tells his lover, refusing to be swayed. “I may not be very experienced, but if nothing else, I know how to use my hands.”

The dwarf's whole face brightens then, his worries cast aside as though taking their love one step at a time had simply never occurred to him, _and perhaps it hadn't, for he is young yet and dwarves always seem to be charging into things full tilt._

“All right then. You have a deal,” his lover promises, gathering the hobbit into his arms. Bilbo comes easily, still nearly boneless from their earlier activities, and he shifts onto his knees at Kíli's urging. His lover must be near to bursting by now, his cock heavy and flushed dark, but he is still gentle as he nudges the other's legs apart.

Then he drapes himself across the hobbit's back and Bilbo has to groan at the feel of the dwarf's length burning a line against his thigh. Although he wouldn't have thought it possible, his own cock gives a valiant twitch when Kíli shifts against him, one arm wrapping around his lover's chest and pulling him in tighter.

“Squeeze your legs together for me, love,” the dwarf whispers against his ear. “Just like that.” His encouragement trails off into a moan as the hobbit does what he asks, cradling the other's shaft. Bilbo feels positively indecent, sinful and wild, and yet the thought no longer scares him as it once did.

Rather Kíli's groans fill him with pride as his lover begins thrusting slowly, his cock rubbing slickly between the hobbit's thighs. Each stroke is a smooth slide of heated skin, and when he shifts his angle, the tip of the dwarf's length presses into a spot behind Bilbo's balls that drives him mad. Soon he is hard again, brought to a frenzy by the feel of Kíli surrounding him and he starts to push back into his lover's thrusts.

Now the dwarf is panting against his neck, moaning a litany of broken Khuzdul into his skin, and Bilbo is lost to pleasure with him. So they rut together, slick and filthy, until the hobbit cannot think for the burning in his veins.

Then Kíli's hand is on him, palm hot against his cock, and there is nothing else important in his world. Nothing but his lover, his mouth, his skin, his touch, and Bilbo is spilling over the dwarf's fingers with a cry. He throws his head back, limbs clenching as he shudders and it is Kíli's turn to scream. His lover muffles his shout against the hobbit's shoulder and thrusts forward once more, his seed painting Bilbo's thighs.

They collapse onto the bed together in a sprawling tangle of sweaty limbs and for a long moment, neither of them moves. But then the hobbit's nose begins to itch and the dwarf is rather heavy, so with a groan Kíli rolls off onto his back. He leans over the edge and swipes his tunic from the floor, using it to clean them roughly, before plastering himself against Bilbo's side.

“Don't wake me 'til the morning,” the dwarf murmurs, settling his face into the crook of the hobbit's neck with a happy sigh. Kíli is asleep between one breath and the next and Bilbo turns his head to press a fond kiss into his lover's hair.

_There is no way I'm letting either of us die,_ the hobbit promises himself as he drifts off into dreams. _Whatever comes, we will make it through somehow._


	6. Truth and Insanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eventually, all things must come to light.

“I am going to kill them all, every last soul who dares to stand against me. Starting with the wizard's twice-damned halfling burglar.” Thorin mutters as he stalks across the floor, restless with anger and with hate. “He is the one who turned everyone against me, he and Kíli plotting to take my crown.”  
  
The dwarf has been in this room for days now, this tiny storage room just ten paces on each side. Thorin has been **here** when he should have been basking in the glory of his triumph over Smaug and he will never forgive those who stole his rightful treasure from his hands. His rightful treasure and his rightful place and the thought of Fíli on **his** throne burns like fire in his veins.  
  
 _I should have left the ungrateful bastard with his brother in the mountains, bled him with a thousand cuts and thrown him from a cliff to die,_ the dwarf lord thinks, baring his teeth in a snarl. _At least then he could not have betrayed me. He could not have repaid all my years of kindness with a dagger in my back._ His thoughts are a gold-tinged fury, the yearning for his treasure warring with the knowledge of the fate which surely awaits him if he tries to leave this room. Because there is a guard outside his door at every moment; Thorin can hear them breathing even in his dreams.  
  
It is a cadence of betrayal that will not let him rest and in frustration, the dwarf slams his fist into the wall. His skin splits against the stone and the pain is a sharp accent to the chaos in his mind, the siren's voice that sings of what belongs to him.  
  
Because everything belongs to him, even the lives of those he rules. “They should have been honored to die for my cause,” he whispers and the song agrees with him, just as it always does. Thorin has never wondered where it came from; how can he when the music fills every corner of his heart and mind? It pulls him back to older, better days, when he was young and the glory of his family was known far and wide. Those days when wealth and pride were all he'd ever known and the song soothes the scars that the dwarf's long years of struggle have left upon his soul.  
  
 _I would have had those days again if not for the halfling and the treason in my nephews' blood. No, I **will** have those days again and you will shine over my kingdom as the symbol of my might._ “Won't you my darling?” Thorin croons softly to the Arkenstone and he would almost swear that it sparkles in answer to his words.  
  
This jewel is as much his heart as it is the mountain's, the gem's glow pulsing with the beating in his chest, and it has not left Thorin's hands since he reclaimed it from the hobbit's filthy grasp. “He tainted you, didn't he? He sullied you with his common touch, but soon we will reclaim our place above them all and no other hands will ever defile you again.”  
  
The dwarf lord laughs then, a rough and desperate cackle, losing himself to the fantasy of what must be soon to come. His burglar broken and bloody, his nephew kneeling in contrition at his feet and his kingdom bowing to their one and only lord. Perhaps Thorin will let Fíli live and save himself the trouble of breeding a successor, but the hobbit will be flayed and hung upon the walls. His corpse will serve as a warning against any who think to challenge his kingdom's power, and a greeting to his sister's younger child should he still live and breathe.  
  
While Thorin does not wish to believe that his nephew could have survived the mountains, a small whisper in his heart cannot deny the truth of Fíli's craft. This knowledge floats upon the hatred no matter how the voices try to drown it and so the dwarf must be ready to face the traitor when he comes.  
  
 _But even if Kíli lives now, he will not survive long if he dares to show his face again. I will bleed him dry and then behead him upon my battlements._ Whatever his heir had taken from him, the seed of Fíli's betrayal began with his brother and that is a price which must be paid. Besides, his nephew is a soft-hearted fool, otherwise he would not have begged so prettily for his uncle to surrender, and once Kíli is dead, his heir will shatter soon enough.  
  
After all, Thorin doesn't need him whole, he only needs him breathing, and a broken shell would never try to challenge him again. Erebor cannot prosper without her true sovereign on the throne and while his sister might balk at first, once she looks upon their homeland, Dís will know it's worth the cost.  
  
“Because it's worth everything. Isn't it?” His voice wavers almost plaintively as something within the dwarf cries out in denial of all that he has wrought. However, this spark is weak and dying and that regret is little more than dust upon the wind. Thorin does not need regrets; he needs a plan with which to conquer his enemies and the answer lies waiting just beyond his grasp.  
  
The dwarf lord begins to pace again, grabbing a piece of dried venison from the shelves and biting it violently. Why can't he see the path that leads to victory? Why has his skill with words forsaken him when he could once capture undying loyalty with nothing but the strength of conviction in his heart?  
  
But now this strength is failing him. It has been failing him for months, eroding away like water upon stone, and Thorin cannot staunch the bleeding no matter how he tries. And he has tried; in those rare moments when the fog lifted from his mind, the dwarf had tried to find himself again. He had tried and he has failed.  
  
So Thorin could do no more than snarl in the face of Thranduil's scorn and he barely resisted the urge to lunge for the Master's throat. The dwarf lord has watched himself come slowly unraveled and he knows exactly whom to blame. It is the fault of his traitorous nephews for turning the Sigin-tarâg against him and conspiring together to steal his **power** and his Arkenstone.  
  
 _And I will have my treasures back, no matter what it takes. If only I could think!_  
  
If only he had a moment's peace with which to plan, but the voices will not be silent; instead they are a cacophony of violence and revenge. _Yes_ , their silver tongues tell Thorin to draw his sword and charge forth to kill those who are standing in his way. The dwarf could take them; he could take all of his former companions, beginning with the guard who keeps him trapped here like a rat in a cage. The thought is so tempting, to cut down his betrayers in blood and agony until he stands dripping before his throne.  
  
Those fools who call themselves his allies would see his true face then and they would have to bow before the red tide of his blade. Even his ungrateful relatives would know his might, they who dared to deny him aid but are sure to swarm his kingdom with greed burning in their eyes.  
  
The dwarf lord wants to kill them all and yet Thorin knows that this is one compulsion he must fight. He must not shed dwarven blood with his own hands, _those traitors have no claim_ , and he holds to this truth even as the knowledge of his reason disappears. But the dwarf knew once and that is enough to make him grit his teeth and roar.  
  
“Silence!” He shouts and for one blessed moment there is nothing to be heard but the sound of his own breathing. One perfect second before everything comes rushing back: the voices, the song, stirring up his hatred and it is a wonder that he hears his guard at all.  
  
“Thorin? My lord are you all right?” Someone asks and the dwarf focuses on these words to pull himself back from the brink. It sounds like Balin, one of the few who seemed to regret his nephew's actions, and perhaps his old friend will give him the advantage that he needs. Perhaps speaking with someone living will help to silence the ghosts within his head.  
  
“Balin, is that you? Have you any news?” Thorin asks, pressing closer to the door so that he does not have to shout.  
  
“Yes, it is I. But there are no tidings which you would wish to hear,” is the reply and a sudden frisson of panic shoots through the dwarf lord's chest. _Fíli has not managed to ruin us already? I must get out of here._  
  
“Tell me!” He demands, for a moment sounding like a king again. “I still have that right.”  
  
There is a sigh on the other side of the door and Thorin knows that Balin must be thinking his words over, that annoyingly wise expression on his face. But then his friend continues and the dwarf lord is ready to forgive everything for the glimpse of the outside world he brings.  
  
“I suppose you are correct and perhaps you will be able to aid us with the trial soon to come.” The other dwarf says quietly. “Things have actually been going rather well in these last days; Fíli has allied with Thranduil and Bard of Laketown for assistance with the rebuilding, in exchange for... unimportant things. The Master of Laketown was dealt with rather handily by... one of our companions and he will trouble Erebor no more.”  
  
Thorin forces himself to stay silent during this recitation, knowing that speaking his true thoughts could chase his friend away. But even though the idea of his nephew ruling still makes the blood boil beneath his skin and the dwarf wonders about the odd pauses in Balin's speech, it is good to hear news of his kingdom once again.  
  
However, whatever happiness this knowledge brings him is soon destroyed by the words that follow, for it is indeed information which Thorin does not wish to hear.  
  
“Beorn and... Beorn arrived with a warning yesterday that the pale orc is leading an army against us, an unimaginable horde whose only goals are violence and destruction. Azog means to fulfill his promise and I do not know if we have the strength to turn him back.” The old dwarf tells him, voice heavy with despair.  
  
“What of our allies? Dáin and the others of my kin?” Thorin asks, remembering the moment when he looked up at his enemy and realized that he would not win this fight. He cannot do that again, once had nearly broken him for the defeat of Azog was one of the few honors to his name. It cannot be a lie.  
  
“Dáin is coming, he will arrive tonight. But our cousin did not know there was a war on the horizon when he first set out. So even with the elves and humans fighting at our side, we will be severely outnumbered.”  
  
These are dire tidings and some part of the dwarf lord is worried for the fate of his kingdom, even if he cares little for the blood that will be spilled. However, what truly ensnares his mind is the thought that someone else might kill Azog while he is trapped in here. Someone could steal his claim to glory and if it is his cousin or his nephew, Thorin will never see his throne again.  
  
That idea is completely unacceptable and the dwarf tries to make his voice conciliatory as he pleads with Balin to help him join the fight. “The pale orc is mine, let me be the one to strike him down.”  
  
At first the older dwarf is unsure, torn between his loyalties to Thorin and to Fíli, but eventually the dwarf lord begins to wear him down. After all they have known each other for centuries and that bond runs deeper than any upstart youngling could hope to understand. So finally Balin agrees and the two of them work out a plan.  
  
“I will volunteer to guard you on the morning of the battle and once everyone else has left, we will outfit you with armor fitting for a king. The two of us together may be able to carve a path to Azog, and it is my hope that defeating him will turn the tide; without a strong and vicious leader to keep his grunts in line, this army should tear itself apart.” The old dwarf says, before adding softly: “And should we fail, at least our names will be remembered with honor instead of infamy.”  
  
 _My name, Balin, this is the one which matters. I have no intention of letting another cousin try to take the kill that should be mine. But if your life buys my way, then I swear that I will mourn you as such sacrifice deserves._ Thorin thinks darkly as he mutters his agreement to the other's scheme.  
  
It is hardly ideal, but it is better than any plan that the dwarf lord had come up with, and at least now there are foes that he can fight. No one will weep for the goblins who fall upon his blade and perhaps when the slaughter is over, the voices in his mind that cry for violence will at last be satisfied. If not, then there will always be more enemies and once Thorin has reclaimed his kingdom, he will have the power to search them out. He will hunt them down and torture them until they beg for death and their agony will feed the hungry maw within his heart.  
  
But first the dwarf must survive the morrow. Not just survive but triumph over his greatest enemy and once the pale orc lies dead, his place will be restored. So he bids Balin a good evening before the changing of the guard and then curls up in a corner of his storeroom to rest until his moment comes.  
  
And when he dreams, Thorin dreams of gold and blood.  
  
\---  
  
Balin arrives early in the morning, waking his lord from a troubled sleep with word that Azog has been sighted on the plains. Now the armies of Erebor are scrambling for their positions because the goblins moved faster than they had hoped and the Lonely Mountain is silent once more.  
  
So Thorin unblocks his door and steps out into the corridor, moving quickly through these abandoned halls. Being free fills the dwarf with a strange exuberance as the song sings of glory again, and he would have charged immediately into battle if not for Balin's quelling hand. But while he snarls at the touch, Thorin allows his old friend to lead him into the armory and stands silent as the other strips him down. By the time the dwarf has finished lecturing him on caution, all of Thorin's tattered gear has been replaced by the strongest weapons and armor ever forged in Erebor.  
  
Only the Goblin Cleaver is not left by the wayside and its familiar weight is a comfort against his back. Before they leave the chamber, the dwarf tucks the Arkenstone carefully against his breast for the gemstone is the symbol of his righteousness and his enemies will have to pry it from his cold dead hands.  
  
Then Balin gives Thorin his father's helm and leads him to the ramparts, where the two dwarves watch as the battle for Erebor is joined. From this distance, the goblins are a dark and shapeless mass and the dwarf lord feels a hint of pride in his people as the warriors stand firm against this endless tide.  
  
But before the goblins can reach their enemies, a wave of arrows arcs high above the field, and the creatures begin to fall. Their charge falters and breaks apart beneath this long-distance slaughter, the wall of flesh splitting into fragments as the dwarves and men move in. Only Azog seems untouchable and the pale orc strides forward without flinching, a trail of carnage in his wake. The archers try to shoot him down, his skin a glowing beacon to their eyes, but the monster knocks their arrows from the sky.  
  
However, even Azog pauses when a roar echoes across the battlefield and Beorn rushes into the fray. The enormous bear towers above the enemy and he tears into them mercilessly, their screams carrying to Thorin's ears.  
  
No one can stand against the skin-changer and the sight of the goblins scattering in terror should fill the dwarf lord with pleasure. But it fills him with disgust instead, because Fíli is going to win this battle without his aid and that cannot be allowed. His defeat of the pale orc is supposed to show his people that Mahal still favors him and thus win Thorin back his kingdom, _but only if Beorn doesn't eat him first._  
  
So the dwarf decides that he has had enough of watching his future slip away and sprints for the gates of Erebor. Balin follows him, trying to convince his lord that there is no need to join this battle now, and perhaps Thorin would listen if it were only victory that drove him.  
  
But he will take no satisfaction from winning unless his hand strikes the final blow and the dwarf lord will have his share of bloodshed at any cost. So Thorin draws his blade as he steps out onto the plain and when the scent of battle hits him, he is lost completely to the frenzy in his veins. For with every foe that he cuts down, the Arkenstone pulses with joy against his chest and how could he end the slaughter now?  
  
Soon there is nothing but the red haze across his vision and the song of death and vengeance in his ears. Nothing else but Azog, who stands wreathed in light before him, and Thorin will claim the monster's life or die in the attempt. In his single-minded focus, the dwarf barely notices the bodies that lay across his path, nor the trail of bloody footprints that he leaves behind. There is only his sword, which flashes out in a streak of red and silver to cleave his enemies in two, and his shield, with which Thorin roughly shoves the injured from his track.  
  
By the time he reaches the pale orc, the sounds of battle have fallen silent, leaving only the wind and the moans of the dying to fill the empty air. Yet Azog still refuses to believe that he is beaten and a circle of corpses attests to the creature's deadly skill.  
  
There is a small group of soldiers watching the orc warily, weapons drawn and ready as they wait just outside his range. None of them are brave enough to take the first step forward and Thorin notices with disgust that Fíli stands amongst their number. _Is this the honor of the House of Durin now? To taunt our enemies from a distance and let archers strike them down?_  
  
The dwarf growls at the thought and the sound draws the attention of his nephew, who stares over at his uncle with wide eyes. “You're supposed to be in Erebor. What are you **doing** here? Balin!!”  
  
As his old friend starts apologizing, Thorin shuts out the conversation and stalks forward, eyes locked with Azog's yellow stare. The orc grins at him, fierce and bloody, and the dwarf lord knows that his enemy is the only one who understands. This time they will fight until one of them is truly dead, and no soft-hearted cowards will be allowed to stop his plans.  
  
So he shrugs off the hand that grasps his shoulder, sneering at the solder who urges him to wait until Beorn finishes with the warg pack and can come to his aid. There will be no more waiting because Thorin's moment has finally arrived and he charges toward Azog with a shout.  
  
 _Mahal guide me,_ the dwarf prays as their weapons clash like thunder and then he has no time to think at all. His foe still moves like quicksilver despite the battle he has fought and it is everything Thorin can do to hold his own. For every blow of the orc's war mace shakes him to the bone and that wicked metal claw threatens to pull his sword from his hand.  
  
There is screaming all around them, voices shouting for him to stop and soldiers crying out their warnings, but the only one he listens to is the one that screams for blood. So the dwarf lord ducks below Azog's swing and lunges forward, blade carving a red line upon the other's chest. This wound shines brightly against the pale orc's skin and for a moment everything goes silent at the proof that his enemy is mortal after all.  
  
However, Thorin's surge of pride is interrupted by his foe's wild swing, and he has to throw himself to the ground to dodge that grasping claw. The mud and muck of battle coats his shining armor, but the dwarf hardly notices the added weight as he takes this chance to jab a dagger into Azog's thigh. His enemy stumbles backward, bellowing in pain, and Thorin rises with a vicious grin upon his lips and a smile in his heart. He gives the pale orc no time to recover and soon the monster is littered with a hundred weeping cuts.  
  
Yet that final blow eludes him and as his frustration builds, the dwarf lord becomes more reckless. He begins to take foolish chances, risking everything on each attempted strike, and eventually, his luck must run out.  
  
It is a little thing that fells him, a small stumble when Thorin should have dodged, and only the speed of panic saves him from decapitation. But the dwarf's sword goes flying and a moment later, Azog is standing over him with one clawed foot pressing on his chest.  
  
“Now I shall have your life, dwarf lord, and fulfill my vow.” The pales orc growls as he raises his mace high. Thorin cannot understand how this could have happened, how Mahal could have forsaken him when vengeance was his right. Yet if he is going to die, he will die bravely, and so the dwarf keeps his eyes locked on Azog's grinning face when the mace begins to fall.  
  
His aim is true and Thorin knows that he has only moments left to live, but then it is his foe's turn to lurch back in surprise. For there is an arrow in Azog's heart and his mace lands harmlessly by the dwarf's head as the orc collapses to the ground.  
  
“Uncle! Are you all right?” A voice calls out and when he looks up, Kíli is rushing toward him, his bow nocked at his side. His nephew looks concerned, but Thorin has seen the evil behind that soft facade and such care can only be an act.  
  
So the dwarf lord shoves himself to his feet and roars, “How dare you interfere?” _How dare you steal my kill?_  
  
“How dare I-?” Kíli steps backward, eyes widening at his uncle's fury. But then they narrow with a fierce anger of his own and the young dwarf shouts back, “You were going to die, you ungrateful bastard! Should I have let Azog slaughter you instead?”  
  
“I would have preferred death over being rescued by a traitor such as you.” Thorin retorts, stalking toward his nephew. He can see Orcrist shining on the ground between them and the dwarf has a sudden urge to gut the silly fool.  
  
It would be so easy for Kíli is hardly on his guard, and then at last his betrayer would trouble him no more. _But no, I swore a vow, didn't I, that I would not spill dwarven blood upon my blade?_   There is a difference between dreaming of his nephew's death and causing it, but even as he balks, the voices whisper on seductively: _That oath does not apply here, for you cast him out as he deserved. Remember what he's done to you, this traitor and his brother, and that is a cost which must be paid. He is an oathbreaker, the lowest of all scum, and he need not be counted among your kin. This nameless one is not even a dwarf, because no true dwarf would do what he has done._  
  
Thorin finds himself agreeing with this judgment since his nephew has always been an odd one with his bow and love of open air, and now it seems so obvious that he is no true son of Durin after all. Kíli could only be some kind of halfbreed to stray so far from Mahal's plan and a mistake such as this must be erased. Indeed it is the dwarf lord's duty to guard the purity of Durin's line and whatever qualms he might have had are nothing to the hatred in his veins.  
  
“Traitor. You will pay for your crimes.” He whispers and the Arkenstone screams its triumph as the dwarf finally accepts what he must do. Then Thorin moves like lightning, sweeping his blade from the field and thrusting it toward the traitor's heart.  
  
The Goblin Cleaver strikes home with a meaty thunk of flesh and bone and for one frozen moment, Thorin's world narrows to the startled whites of Kíli's eyes. There is satisfaction here, in the blood running across his fingers and the pained gasps which fill his ears, and the dwarf smiles at his nephew with a vicious, feral glee.  
  
Yet when the world begins again, it is not Kíli who crumples slowly to the ground.  
  
No, it is his brother in whom Thorin's sword is lodged, Fíli's bright hair stained dark with dirt and blood. And the dwarf lord staggers backwards, his blade falling from nerveless fingers at the sight of his nephews tangled together in terror and agony.  
  
For Kíli holds his brother desperately, hands trying to staunch the wound, and his eyes pierce his uncle like daggers as he screams out the halfling's name. There is such hate there, such bottomless hate, and for the first time since he heard the voices, Thorin feels a stab of guilt. It tears into him without warning and even the warmth of the Arkenstone cannot make him meet the watching eyes. Because the soldiers are **judging** him and they are finding the dwarf lord wanting, his every action called into question by those who should be kneeling at his feet.  
  
Thorin presses one hand to his chest, trying to regain that feeling of certainty which had guided him this far. But Kíli's screaming blows aside the voices like tatters in the wind and the dwarf cannot find the song amidst the shame.  
  
So he turns away, searching for an escape from the scene before him, but all he finds is agony instead. Because something slams into him with the pain of a thousand splintered hearts and when Thorin looks up, it is into Azog's feral gaze. Somehow the orc had dragged himself to his feet, bracing himself upright long enough to swing his war mace one final time.  
  
Now the dwarf cannot breathe through the pressure in his chest and the edges of his vision begin to fade. The last thing that he sees before all sight fails him is Beorn ripping the orc's head from his shoulders, and the sound of Kíli weeping follows him into the dark.  
  
\---  
  
Thorin wakes to silence and to pain.  
  
His every breath is an agony that threatens to send him spiraling into unconsciousness again, but the suffering of his body is nothing compared to the horror which fills his mind. Because for the first time in months, the song has fallen silent and without it there to blind him, Thorin must finally face the truth of what he's done.  
  
At first he tries to justify his actions, grasping at the evidence which had seemed so clear before, but there is one fact that the dwarf lord simply cannot shake. _I killed my nephew,_ he thinks and how can he ever face the world again with Fíli's blood upon his hands? How can Thorin live with the knowledge that he is a kin-slayer when his sister-sons were the closest thing to children that he would ever have?  
  
 _They should have let me die,_ he thinks, despair filling him as he remembers the grief on Kíli's face.  
  
The dwarf screams his anguish then, or at least he tries to, for no more than a tortured gasp escapes his barren throat. However, someone stirs in his chamber at the noise, and Thorin is shocked from his recriminations by the sight which greets his eyes.  
  
“Hello brother,” Ordak murmurs, grinning down at him with an unseemly glee, “I was wondering if you would ever wake.”  
  
“Wha- ?” The dwarf barely begins his question before his words are lost in coughing, but his brother-in-law seems to read his mind easily enough.  
  
“Your sister grew worried when your messages stopped coming, so I volunteered to search out your company. One dwarf alone can travel much faster than a group and I arrived only hours after Azog was taken down.” Ordak says and then his smile twists viciously. “Or at least, that's the story I told your allies to explain why I am here.”  
  
There had always been something a little off about the other dwarf and in truth, Thorin has never understood why Dís married him after her first husband died. But weird or not, he had treated Ordak like family because his sister's happiness was worth more than his pride. Now though, now his brother-in-law is acting like a stranger, a stranger with cruel and savage eyes, and the dwarf lord feels a chill run down his spine.  
  
“Of course, everything I just said is a complete and utter fabrication,” Ordak continues with that same twisted cheerfulness. “And I think you should know the truth before you die. You should know how completely I have destroyed your life.”  
  
The dwarf sits down on the edge of Thorin's bed, wiping sweat off the other's face and smiling down at him with a facade of care. From a distance the scene would appear quite normal and only his words reveal the monster that he is inside. His words and the mad light in his eyes. “Though I must admit your actions surpassed my wildest dreams. I only planned to discredit you so that Dís and I could claim your kingdom and I assumed I would have to deal with your nephews myself. But instead you killed them for me so while I was initially going to make you suffer, perhaps you have earned a quick death with that.”  
  
“Why would you do this?” Thorin whispers, horrified at the thought that he has been no more than a puppet in Ordak's schemes. _How could you do this to me?_  
  
“Because you deserve it,” His brother-in-law replies. “All you Durins who think yourselves so much better than us common folk. Did you know that the Arkenstone should have been mine? I was the one who found it so many years ago, but your grandfather stole it from me without a second thought. He claimed it as the symbol of his kingdom and I swore then that I would have all that he loved.  
  
"However, before I could put my plans into motion, the dragon came and I watched with joy as Thrór's kingdom burned. But it wasn't enough; I wanted to see his line shattered completely and Azanulbizar gave me the means to reach my goal. For while you were busy avenging your grandfather's demise, there was no one to protect his corpse from grasping fingers. No one there to stop me from claiming your heritage and how could I resist such opportunity?”  
  
With these words, Ordak pulls a shining silver ring out from underneath his tunic and Thorin's eyes widen in shock. It is Thrór's ring of power, one of the seven gifted to the dwarf lords, and for decades he has believed it lost.  
  
 _But it was not lost, it was stolen_ , the dwarf thinks, growling deep within his throat, and his brother-in-law seems to find his anger amusing. Indeed Ordak simply grins all the wider as he continues taunting Thorin with the record of his sins.  
  
“This ring gives me the power to warp the minds of others and with it in my possession, it was so very simple to place myself next to your heart. Your sister was grieving for her husband, your father close to madness, and with the slightest effort they both fell into my hands. So I married her and sent Thráin into the wilderness, leaving only you and the brats to stand in my way. I could have killed you then, staged tragic accidents and claimed your people, but what vengeance is there in stealing a broken throne?  
  
No, I wanted the shining kingdom of my memory and so I waited, I watched, and I planned. Dís has given me some trouble over the years since her stubborn mind keeps refusing my control, but you, you were **easy** to manipulate. So I made you disregard me and carved myself a position among those Sigin-tarâg who wished to see you fall. I was the spider who held the threads of discontent within your people and when the rumors of your quest began, I knew my time had come.”  
  
Ordak leans in closer as though imparting a great secret and if the dwarf lord had a blade, both of them would die. For with every gloating whisper, his brother-in-law proves himself in need of killing and once Thorin had completed this last duty, he could finally end his shame.  
  
 _Death is the only mercy now,_ the dwarf thinks as his despair threatens to swallow him. _The moment I allowed this monster to lay with my sister and use me to kill her children, my honor was broken beyond repair._ Thorin no longer wants to hear the rest of Ordak's scheming, but when he tries to turn his head away, the other dwarf just grins wider and forces him to watch.  
  
“While you had the wizard with you, I could not risk bending your thoughts, but it is amazing what one can accomplish with naught but threats and gold. A few rumors, a little bribery and some warnings in the night were all it took to leave you without the allies that you sought. As for enemies, I traded the knowledge of your route to the pale orc in exchange for the promise that he would not kill you until you had reclaimed Erebor.”  
  
“You are truly mad,” Thorin whispers, mesmerized by the insanity in the other's eyes.  
  
“Says the dwarf who stabbed his nephew,” Ordak retorts, before adding smugly, “Though I did have a hand in that. While I must admit Azog was too obsessed with his vengeance to perform as I had hoped, you dear brother, did not let me down.  
  
"My curse was only meant to increase your avarice, to make you reckless with greed and paranoia so that it would seem as though Thrór's madness had awakened in your blood. Your few companions were to keep you alive until the wizard took care of our little dragon problem and to witness the degradation of your mind. Thus, no one would have thought it strange when you slipped over that last precipice and slaughtered the rest of those who stood between me and what was mine.  
  
"I tied my curse to the Arkenstone for I know well the power of its song, and this way my influence would grow stronger with every step you took. But I thought that I would have to force you to attack those whom you loved, so imagine my surprise when I arrived to discover my work nearly complete.”  
  
Ordak has to stop then for he is laughing too hard to speak and his merriment makes Thorin ill. While the knowledge that he had been cursed should be a relief, there can be no comfort while he carries the weight of Fíli's death upon his soul. Even if the dwarf lord had been manipulated by magic, he should have found the strength to fight; Mahal accepts no excuses from his children when their lives are judged.  
  
“So there you have it.” The other dwarf states cheerfully once he has finally regained his breath. “You know the truth and it is time for you to die. While Kíli still lives for the moment, your murder of his brother is a fine cause for suicide and I will have this kingdom under my control in a matter of days. I promise your funerals will be glorious and I will remember you fondly when I am fucking your sister and sitting on your throne.”  
  
Ordak gives one last wicked cackle as he reaches over to grab a pillow and begins to lower it towards Thorin's face. Thus for the second time in recent memory, the dwarf lord sees his death approaching and while he would have preferred to take the bastard with him, he welcomes the end of his pain.  
  
Yet once again this escape eludes him and before the cushion touches Thorin, his brother-in-law staggers forward with a gasp of pain. There is a red stain spreading across Ordak's tunic and as the dwarf lord watches in shock, his nephew appears behind the traitor, a dagger in his hands.  
  
“How...?” The mad dwarf gasps, one hand fumbling for his weapon. But before he can draw it, his step-son shoves the knife in deeper and then twists it violently.  
  
“You are not the only one with a magic ring, **father** , and your story made me suspicious. You have never been as good a liar as you thought.” Kíli sneers, yanking his dagger free and watching coldly as the bastard crumples to his knees. Then the young dwarf calmly cleans his weapon and turns to look at Thorin, who cannot comprehend this sudden reversal of his fate.  
  
“You saved me again.” He says, his voice an anguished whisper as he asks, “Why?”  
  
“Because death is too easy. I want you to live with the knowledge of your crimes.” His nephew tells him and Thorin has never seen such coldness in his eyes. But then Kíli's face softens slightly and the young dwarf adds, “Besides, while I will never forgive you for the pain you caused my brother, Fíli is not dead.”  
  
At first the dwarf lord cannot understand what he has heard and is certain that there must be some mistake. His nephew could never have survived that blow, yet as Kíli continues his explanation, Thorin feels a growing doubt.  
  
“Bilbo saved him. He and Beorn saved the both of you, working for hours to stop your bleeding and remove the shards of the Arkenstone that were embedded in your chest.” The young dwarf says, a hint of pride coloring his words. He smiles then, soft and fond, and at the sight of his joy, Thorin must believe that he speaks true. “Fíli is still unconscious but the healers assure me that he will recover fully once he wakes.”  
  
“So what happens now?” The dwarf lord asks uncertainly, torn between the desire to see this miracle as absolution and the knowledge that it is not.  
  
“Now?” His nephew shrugs. “Now I am going to find my hobbit so that I can return his ring and remember that there is still some joy in this world. And along the way I will send someone in to deal with **that**.” Kíli stares down at the corpse of his step-father in disgust and his uncle shivers when that flinty gaze is turned on him. “You need not fear for your crown either since my brother has only ever wanted to do right by our people and I will testify to what I heard. However, you should also know that I will never live beneath you rule again so if you are named King of Erebor, Bilbo and I will be saying our farewells.”  
  
His voice is implacable and Thorin knows that he cannot hope to change his nephew's mind. Yet the dwarf lord also cannot resent Kíli's decision, no matter how much it hurts to watch him walk away and remember the bond that they once shared. All he can do is offer an apology, “I truly am sorry, nephew,” no matter how inadequate it seems for the pain that he has caused.  
  
“I know, uncle. And perhaps someday I will care.” Kíli says quietly before slipping from the chamber and leaving Thorin to his regret.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully no one hates me too much for this and to that reader who guessed the traitor back in chapter 4, you are amazing, because while it was always going to be Ordak, I only mentioned him in passing twice before. Heck I hadn't even named him before this.


	7. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life goes on.

Dís had never realized that she might come to hate her dreams.  
  
But now that she walks unchallenged through the ancient halls of Erebor, the yearning that once drove her has left only bitterness. For while the dwarrowdam had prayed to Mahal that her brother's quest would be successful, her foolish dreams had never wondered at the price.  
  
She had known that the journey would be dangerous but Dís had trusted Thorin to protect her children, never imagining that it would be he from whom the dagger fell. His actions were a betrayal of all that made them family and although she is so proud of her sons for surviving, for triumphing against these odds, everything has changed. The once strong bond between her brother and his nephews has been shattered completely and Dís does not know if this rift will ever heal.  
  
How can it as long as Kíli's heart still burns with hatred and Thorin has naught but guilt to give him in return? How can her family ever be whole when it was her **husband** who drove their king to madness and Fíli has nightmares about the weakness in his blood?  
  
Her husband... Now that is a horror of its own and Dís has spent long hours trying to reconcile the dwarf whom she married with the one who tried to end her brother's life. Yet while part of her heart still loves Ordak and refuses to believe these accusations, something in her bones knows that it is true. The dwarrowdam has always known that her husband carried darkness and in more lucid moments, the dwarf made her skin crawl. But when Ordak was with her this never seemed to matter and today Dís feels as though she is waking from an endless dream. A dream in which all her doubts were twisted into pleasure and only now that she is no longer sleeping does the horror beneath seem clear.  
  
Dis' one consolation is that her second husband rarely bothered to seek her chambers, leaving the memories of her sons' father untainted in her heart. So she holds tight to this thought when the truth threatens to overwhelm her and the dwarrowdam has never been so glad for Erebor's scalding springs.  
  
In her bitterest moments, she thinks that Ordak's betrayal should make things easier because even Kíli acknowledges that Thorin was not to blame for his insanity. Yet somehow this changes nothing except within her mind and Dís wishes her husband were still living so she could slaughter him herself.  
  
It is **his** fault that her brother is haunted by demons despite all their clan has won. It is **his** fault that Thorin Oakenshield is broken, shattered by the knowledge of what his hands have wrought and she knows that the dwarf lord will not be long for Erebor. Because her brother will never claim the throne of which he dreamed and while this was his decision, it would break his heart to stay.  
  
Watching Fíli rule his kingdom is more than he can bear and he waits only until Dís brings their people home before planning his escape. For her eldest has already proven the fire of his spirit and with his mother and companions as his advisers, the young dwarf will rule well.  
  
Which leaves Thorin free to flee the site of his betrayal, her foolish brother who cannot give up his search for glory despite everything it's cost. Now that Erebor is lost to him, the dwarf has set his sights on Khazad-dûm and Dís sometimes wonders if her brother has learned anything at all. But while she may think that Thorin is running from his problems, she cannot force him to remain.  
  
Even if she could change his mind through guilt or manipulation, that is not her way. A dwarven mother does not stop her children from courting failure because some lessons must be learned through pain and her brother still deserves the chance to make his own mistakes.  
  
Though Dís cannot help but worry for his safety and so one night she asks him, “Are you sure that this is what you wish to do?”  
  
But if she is hoping for him to reconsider, the dwarrowdam is disappointed because her brother simply nods heavily. “While Khazad-dûm does not call to my heart with the strength of our homeland, I cannot remain in Erebor if I am not to be her king. Because I will not find forgiveness for my crimes by doing nothing and even though Fíli does not hate me with the fire of his brother, he does not need me anymore. Your son is stronger than I am, he showed that when he challenged me, and I cannot steal what he has earned to salve my wounded pride.”  
  
So the dwarrowdam wishes Thorin well and assists him with the preparations until the day of his departure comes. While none of his former companions chose to join him, Dís finds some comfort in knowing that her brother will have warriors at his back nonetheless. For this time the dwarf lord has gathered two score of his loyal Sigin-tarâg to aid him in this mission, those dwarves who are not ready to lay down their axes yet.  
  
However, despite her people's bravery and the fact that Thorin retook Erebor with less, Dís cannot shake the feeling that this quest is doomed. The dwarrowdam remembers the Battle of Azanulbizar all too vividly in her nightmares and she never wishes to see such slaughter upon this earth again. She worries even in the face of Thorin's laughter, his claims that the Misty Mountains should be nearly empty since the goblins who once lived there lay rotting on the fields of Erebor. She worries because Durin's Bane was never conquered and who knows what lives within the deep?  
  
Yet Dís is a princess of Durin's line, so once she speaks her warning she locks all her doubts away. This is a day of celebration for her people and the dwarrowdam will send her brother off with naught but pride and glory on her face. _And if he falls, I will grieve for him as for all that I have lost._  
  
Fíli is standing with her, the crown of Erebor shining on his brow while he waits to say farewell. Over the long days of rebuilding and preparation, Thorin and her eldest found common ground in their love for their people and thus began to bridge the pain. While her son will probably never trust his uncle as he did before, there is respect between them and Dís knows that she cannot truly ask for more.  
  
Of all their companions, only Kíli still holds tight to his hatred and given what the dwarf has suffered, no one can deny his right. However, her son does not hate Thorin for his own sake, seeming to spare little thought for the scars of his ordeal. Instead it is the memory of Fíli's blood spilling warm across his hands that her youngest cannot bury and Dís is not surprised when he does not stand with the Sigin-tarâg to wish her brother well.  
  
What does startle the dwarrowdam is the sight of Kíli waiting for the procession by the gates, her son leaning awkwardly against the stone with the halfling at his side. Thorin pauses before his nephew and from his tentative expression, her brother does not dare to hope that this concession means anything.  
  
For a long moment no one moves and given the stubbornness of Durins, Dís knows it may be a lifetime before one of her boys cracks. However, just when she is considering knocking their heads together, Bilbo lets out an exasperated sigh and shoves the younger dwarf in the back. Kíli turns to glare at the hobbit fiercely but the burglar meets his gaze without flinching and although Dís cannot hear the exchange that follows, it is her son who gives in first.  
  
“I still hate you, but I would prefer you stay alive.” He mutters grudgingly to Thorin before running off again and at these words, his uncle beams as though granted the world. _Maybe this will give my fool brother something to live for,_ Dís hopes while watching the company ride into the distance, standing by the gate until the dwarves can be seen no more.  
  
With Thorin gone, her focus turns back to her children and the dwarrowdam is determined to help them find happiness. Which of course means love because in her heart of hearts, Dís wants to hear the pitter-patter of tiny Durins in Erebor again.  
  
This becomes her new mission when she is not trying to wrangle feuding Sigin-tarâg into submission and it is disheartening that she finds the latter far easier to do.  
  
But Fíli always flees the conversation with cries of duty calling and Kíli looks at his mother like she's crazy when she mentions taking a wife. Though in her defense, Dís might have been less persistent with her youngest if someone had bothered to mention the fact that Bilbo held his heart. But while their love may have been obvious to those who had seen them fall, the dwarrowdam is operating under misconceptions of friendship and does not recognize the truth before her eyes. At least not until she finally stumbles in on them.  
  
That is an awkward morning.  
  
Her first thoughts, after a startled: _I didn't know my son could bend that way,_ lean rather toward murder, though she's not sure which of them she'd rather kill. But once her initial bloody urges have subsided, Dís decides to learn more about this halfling who dares to claim her child's love.  
  
This Bilbo Baggins seems an odd fit at first impression, for the hobbit is polite and soft-spoken where her younger son is brash. He is a healer not a fighter but when Dís mentions this to Fíli, the dwarf laughs himself nearly to tears and he only howls louder at his mother's affronted glance. However, once her eldest regains control over his breathing, the dwarrowdam stands spellbound before the story that he tells her because this was an indeed a courtship to make the Valar proud.  
  
Spellbound and skeptical for although she does not think her son would lie, it is difficult to believe that this small hobbit could have done all that Fíli claims. Yet even if his actions were more luck than skill, Bilbo is not without his merits and perhaps Erebor does not need more warriors anyway. Because their burglar has quite a gift for diplomatic dealings and his tongue cuts sharper than many blades.  
  
So Dís grants Kíli her blessing, whatever doubts remain not worth his happiness, and the day that someone tries to kill her children, she learns that Mahal led her right. It is another council meeting, one of the necessary evils of running a kingdom, but this morning the dwarrowdam is losing her patience fast. For the attempt to broker an agreement between the guilds of forge and mine has stalled on bitter sniping and she is about to call a recess when one of the spectators pulls out an axe.  
  
Everything has been peaceful since the last battle ended so no one is prepared for this attempt on their king and the dwarf is almost to the throne before anyone reacts. Dís is too far away to do more than watch as Kíli jumps in front of his brother and during the struggle that follows, the dwarrowdam cannot see who has the upper hand.  
  
Until there is a meaty thunk and the assassin collapses to the floor with a scream, revealing Bilbo's weapon in his back. The halfling's snarl is as fierce as any warrior's and when he growls, “Do not touch my family!” the entire council shudders at the death in his voice. _This is the hobbit who braved the Misty Mountains to rescue my youngest; this is the hobbit who lured the dragon out,_ Dís realizes and at last she truly understands the love in Kíli's eyes.  
  
And to make all others aware of the penalty they face for doubting, she finds a bard to write their star-crossed ballad down.  
  
If Kíli's relationship is to be properly respected, the clan must know that he chose well and so Dís will turn their love to legend. Thus the dwarrowdam makes Bilbo tell his story and when the bard has finished, _The Prince and the Burglar_ is sung in every tavern and every dancing hall.  
  
Her son is mortified of course and the hobbit spends a whole week blushing, but their embarrassment is a small price to pay for the new esteem in dwarven eyes. This is Dís' job after all, to keep her finger on the pulse of their people, and what better than a romance to win their hearts and minds? For the sons of Durin need such admiration to help support their young kingdom, particularly if Fíli persists on remaining without a spouse.  
  
She does not understand his resistance because there are many lovely lads and lasses to choose from and his responsibilities would be much lighter shared. While Kíli and the others certainly help to ease the burden, her son needs a proper Queen or Consort and there is that matter of grandchildren to bear.  
  
Though this is one more dream turned to ashes when Fíli finally explains the fear that binds him, the fear that he would pass on Thorin's madness to his son. “Ordak's curse did not create uncle's sickness, it only enhanced what lived inside him, and perhaps it would be best if the Elder Line of Durin ended now. Dáin's child seems sensible enough so I could leave him Erebor in good conscience, knowing that what I build will not be thrown away.”  
  
Nothing that Dís says can convince him otherwise and all she can do is hope that her son will someday change his mind. All she can do is support Fíli's decision while never letting him see the pain his choice has caused her, another shattered hope now cast aside.  
  
But time heals where it can and the dwarrowdam surprises herself one morning by smiling as she walks the battlements. It is strange to smile without the hint of sorrow that has been her companion for so long and it almost seems like a betrayal of all those who fell here.  
  
Yet how can she wallow in misery when every day brings more dwarves to aid in their restoration, strong hearts filled with the promise of Erebor? How can Dís hate what her life has brought her when her sons are thriving and Kíli's whole being glows with love? He and his hobbit are truly adorable together, Bilbo's patience tempering the archer's wild spirit, and the hardest dwarven warriors cannot help but smile fondly when the two walk by.  
  
Such love is all that Dís should need to know the future will be brighter, such love and the new cities that are rising from the bones of the old. For the halls of Erebor are nearly cleared of rubble and when she looks to Dale, every voice is raised in joyful song. So if these men can find the strength to hope after generations of living in the dragon's shadow, what is her excuse for holding tight to pain?  
  
The dwarrowdam has none and with every day that passes, she is learning to release the nightmares of the past. She is learning to find joy in each bright moment and if this is not the life that she expected, perhaps it was her expectations which were wrong. Because even if her old ambitions are now bitter and broken, her brother off chasing glory in the deep, her children have found dreams of their own and Dís can ask no more than that.  
  
  
 _Finis_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap. Epilogue finished and all. I don't know if I'm entirely happy with where this story decided to end, but this may just be because I'm having trouble letting go of it at all. Though at least I may finally have time to finish the Other Side of the Coin and write all those one-shots in my head.
> 
> That said, thank you very much to all the readers who have stuck with me this far, I do hope you enjoyed the ride.

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another [prompt](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/702.html?thread=630718#t630718) which seems to have gotten away from me. They almost always do.


End file.
